


Heartbreaker

by Sage8771



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Attraction, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Dark, Developing Relationship, F/M, From Sex to Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Love, Serial Killers, Triggers, evolving storyline, strong females
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-05-28 16:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 130,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15053210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage8771/pseuds/Sage8771
Summary: Detectives Andie Saunders and Abraham Ford are called to a scene, one that haunts them both. What starts as a homicide investigation turns into a race against time, when they find out that sinister factors are at play. There's a serial killer on the loose, bringing help from near and far, including from a man that might be as damaged as the one they're chasing.





	1. 10-35

**Author's Note:**

> So..this is dark. Anyone that usually follows my work is treated to some romance and struggle, but this is far and away unlike anything I've ever written before. If you have any triggers, please, please do not read, as there will be graphic descriptions of violence and death. Assault does occur, but it will only be discussed after the fact.

 

   Beth smoothed the wavy tendrils of her hair a third time, feeling giddy with nervousness and excitement as she checked her appearance again in the mirror, the ticking of the clock marking a countdown to a night she'd never forget. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail with a fancy jeweled clip, the newest dress she had hanging demurely over her slim figure, and her blue eyes shining brightly, rimmed with the barest amount of liner and mascara.

   She and John had talked for weeks, the latter contacting her shortly after she finally took the plunge and signed up for one of those dating apps. A pretty girl, she should have no problem finding a suitor, but she was new to the area, transferring to the local college to finally gain some independence from her family. They babied her, especially her sister, ever since mom died, and at twenty, she needed to spread her wings and find her place.

   So far, all she'd done was work at the diner that was just steps from her meager apartment and go to school, nights spent hunched over the chipped wood table doing her assignments. The place was small, but the rent was good, and she finally had a place of her own.

   John was older, self-employed as a contractor, and he had a fancy website with his smiling face smack in the middle of the page. She was no dummy, and made sure to research him before agreeing to meet in person. A quick web search had turned up a few articles about some of his projects, and one twitter account that posted a few funny pictures every now and again.

   Her cheeks turned pink as she thought of the last conversation they'd had over the phone, when he told her that she was beautiful, the kind of girl whose eyes he could get lost in, ever the gentleman, and she'd plucked up the courage to ask him over for dinner. He'd hesitated for a moment, and Beth thought about dismissing it as a joke, but he told her he'd be honored, but only for dinner, he told her in a teasing voice.

   "We should take it slow," he'd said, "and get to know each other. How about I bring over some Chinese on Friday?"

   At his insistence, she'd texted her sister Maggie to tell her about the date, giving her his name and phone number in case of an emergency. Now, he was due at any minute, and her heart was full. They were finally going to meet.

   Her ancient clock had just clicked over to six o'clock exactly when there was a soft rap on her door. Smoothing her hair one more time, she fidgeted with her dress as she peered through the peephole, her body flushing with heat when she saw that it was him. It was really him, live and in the flesh. It wasn't a trick, it wasn't a joke, and it wasn't one of those awful Catfishing deals that she'd heard Jill Johnson talk about in Econ class.

   With shaking fingers, she unlatched the sliding lock, opening the door shyly as John held up a still steaming bag of Chinese food.

___________________________

   The foreplay always bored him. No, that wasn't true. The foreplay _before_ the foreplay is what bored him. The sitting and discussing banal pleasantries, the 'where were you born's' and the 'where do you see yourself in ten years' bullshit sort of questions. It never really told you what you needed to know about someone. Their facial expressions did. The way they would shift their legs. When they're turned towards you it's a sign they're interested. Same with arms. Crossing them is a signal that you're closing yourself off from someone.

    In fact, the entire body was an open book, just waiting to be devoured. Sweet, juicy lips and pretty eyes, whether they were brown, green, hazel, or blue. Blue eyes were his favorite, at least for now. And her blue eyes were exquisite as they peered up at him, telling him everything he needed to know, pleading for release.

   They always begged for release, a sweet conclusion to the way he played their bodies like an instrument, with dexterous fingers and a skilled mouth. They way they'd writhe underneath him, bucking and seizing.

   And he'd never deny them. It would be cruel to deny them that release, so after he had enough, felt that he'd played with them sufficiently, he'd grant it to them. _Release._

   But before he did, he leaned down one more time, smelling her hair as her blue eyes begged him silently, soaking up the sweet scent of peaches.

    _Please. I need the release._

   He liked her. Beth was one of his favorites.

____________________________

   Andie treasured her weekends. They were her chance to rest and recharge, especially when the week had been rough. This one wasn't so bad, as far as work weeks go, a bit on the mundane side, giving her plenty of time to catch up on paperwork, her least favorite thing in the universe.

   But Saturday mornings were for sleeping in and lazing in her bed. The laundry, bills and the million other errands that needed to be done could wait. She'd spent a shit-ton of money on a top of the line mattress, foam that you could melt into, silk sheets and a goose-down comforter that had put a serious dent into her savings, and it was totally worth it as she rolled over, curling up into a ball with a satisfied sound.

   She was just falling into a deep slumber when her phone beeped and vibrated, forcing her eyes back open.

   "Someone better be dead," she mumbled, cursing herself when she saw the message.

    _10-35_

_Be there in twenty._

   Fuck.

   She set the phone down after checking the time, finding it much earlier than she thought. It was only five after five in the morning, and she stretched before getting up and pulling out a suit from her closet, throwing a white blouse on top of it as she stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and pin her hair into a bun.

   Exactly thirteen minutes later, Andie was standing in front of her coffee maker, brewing up some Arabian roast, filling first a blue thermos and then a black one, locking her door as she tried not to spill it all over herself. Someday, she'd have to get better ones, but they'd do for now.

   Sipping at the blue one, she watched as a black Taurus turned onto her street, passing the other condos and apartments before stopping in front of hers, a face as tired as hers staring back at her.

   Abraham Ford was big, burly, and the loudest partner she'd ever had, and he had her back like no other. His girlfriend Sasha was also a detective, and one of her friends, so his protectiveness was ingrained in him, though she thought he tried too hard to shield her sometimes, especially from the other guys in their division. She could take whatever they dished out at her, and ribbed him endlessly about it.

   But there was no teasing today as he took the black cup wordlessly, staring ahead as she tossed her bag into the backseat, buckling her seatbelt before he drove off. It was their weekend on call, and she waited for him to give her the details, but he seemed abnormally subdued.

   "What are we walking into, Ford?" she prompted him, setting her own coffee in the holder as he grunted.

   "Twenty-year-old girl found in her apartment by her sister. Strangled, assaulted and mutilated."  
  
   "Jesus Christ."

   Andie and Ford had seen their fair share of upsetting murder scenes, but nothing as brutal as what he just laid out for her. Domestic issues, gang violence, they had it all in their town, but something like this was unheard of, and as he drove he turned on the sirens when they got on the main road, the cars in front of them peeling off to the side to allow them through.

   Ford drove them downtown, slowing to a crawl as they neared the plethora of cops, coroners, and bystanders that were crowded around Bleeker Street, just down from a popular diner called Jerry's. As they pulled up, people both official and eager for information surrounded them, one of them being a local beat cop that they dealt with often.

   "Simon," Andie nodded as he tipped his head towards her before running his hand over his mustache, waving the crowd back so that they could get into the run-down two-story building that sat in the middle of the block.

   "Porter's already here from the coroner's office," he told them, leading them inside a white door with cracked paint, the narrow hallway filled with fellow cops. Up the steps and around the banister was a door that already had tape across it, and two of Simon's men were ushering the neighbors back into their apartments, trying to keep the area as clear as possible. Ford asked him to start taking statements, and Simon assured them he was already on it.

   Standing in the corner near a window that looked out over the sidewalk was a young woman with brown hair, being consoled by Sasha, who'd heard the call over the radio and had come to assist, no doubt. She gave Andie and Ford a cautious look, and Andie assumed it was the sister, nodding back before setting her bag down and pulling out everything that she needed.

   As Sasha tried to shield the sister from the movements of the detectives, Andie and Ford put on their booties, gowns, and gloves, each of them attaching a belt around their waists that held their supplies, and Andie noted that there was no sign of forced entry before stepping inside under the yellow tape.

   The other officers had been ordered to stay outside until the area was cleared, except for the coroner, Eugene Porter, who was also scribbling down some notes as he stood over the body. The apartment was small, just a tiny kitchenette and an abbreviated sitting area along with a bathroom and a bedroom. A typical apartment for a young girl, and Andie scanned it briefly, nothing seeming out of place except for the tragedy on the worn yellow carpet.

   "Twenty-year-old decedent," Eugene said in his robotic voice, not looking up from his notes. "Time of death between ten o'clock and two o'clock this morning. COD most likely manual strangulation as noted by the marks on her neck."

   Ford bent down, growling low in his voice as he took in the carnage.

   "But definitely not the fact that her chest is cut open, huh?"

   The sarcasm went right over Eugene's head, as he continued to write down information.

   "That is correct. The lack of blood suggests that the mutilation probably occurred after death, as well as the significant petechiae along the cheeks and eyes."

   Indeed, the young girl's face was littered with red spots, and the whites of her eyes were almost completely obscured by broken blood vessels.

   Andie had seen bodies in all states since she transferred to homicide, and she was always able to turn her emotions off while she worked, moving and thinking in a robotic, intellectual fashion, but this time it was a struggle. The victim, Beth Greene was just a kid, and she'd been terrorized and gutted by a monster. This wasn't a crime of passion, and Ford knew it as well as he took pictures of her body, his hands holding the camera so tightly that she thought he was going to shatter it.

   "Victim was sexually assaulted as well, judging by the tearing along the vaginal canal," Porter said, though it was much softer and with an actual inflection of emotion, "though the autopsy will confirm."

   He stepped out of the room after declaring the official death of one Elizabeth Greene, allowing Andie and Ford to do their jobs. There was a protocol involved in each and every call they or any other of their brethren took, and they followed it to the letter. They secured the scene, took evidence as carefully as they could from the young girl's body and logged everything into the official record before she was taken to the morgue.

   Less than an hour after they arrived at the scene, Captain Rick Grimes joined them, his face grave as he gowned up, stepping inside the spartan area, watching silently as Andie checked the table for fingerprints, finding a small, round drop of something brown. She carefully took a sample, labeling it and handing it to Ford who added it to the evidence bag.

   Beth's sister Maggie had been taken to the station for an official statement by Sasha, and Rick silently held out his hand for Andie's notes, reading through them with his lips pressed firmly together. The apartment was spotless, with not a hair out of place, not even garbage in the can. There had been no defensive wounds on the girl's arms which suggested that there was no struggle, although she appeared to have been restrained somehow, as there were ligature marks on her wrists.

   "What are we thinking?" Rick asked quietly as they formed a small triangle. Andie knew that he was professional and by the book, but with the crinkling of the corners of his eyes, he was on the verge of a major eruption. "The sister said she was supposed to have a date last night."

   "Did she have any information about the guy?" Abraham rolled his neck, sore from hunching over for a long time. "Name? Phone number?"

   "She showed us a text from the girl with his name and number, but it's been disconnected. Said Beth always checks in before bed, and when she didn't hear from her by midnight, she made the trip here to check on her."

   "Poor girl," Andie murmured, "finding her sister like that."

   "This doesn't feel like a date gone wrong," Rick mused, his eyes drifting down to the small puddle of blood that remained on the yellow rug. "Whatever happened here, we need to find this guy yesterday."

   "We'll finish up and meet you in the office," Andie told him, turning back to the kitchen to bag a few more things before moving onto the girl's bedroom.

   She left Ford to deal with the captain, her mind already working overtime as she went over the apartment with a fine-tooth comb. Rick's words were bouncing around in her head over and over. This definitely wasn't a date gone wrong, and she had a bad feeling in her gut that whoever did this was going to do it again.

____________________________

 

    He slowly drove by the apartment a few hours later, smiling slightly as he watched the cops milling around on the sidewalk, taking note of a pretty woman in the window of Beth's apartment, watching the scene below.

   Yes, Beth was one of his favorites.


	2. The Girl In Question

   Abraham let out a gruff sound, and Andie handed him the coroner's report without looking up, knowing exactly what he wanted. She was still re-reading all of the information collected about the short life of one Elizabeth Greene.

   Twenty years and two months at the time of her death, she had moved to town a few months ago to enroll in the UGA College of Veterinary Medicine, following in her father's footsteps. The youngest child of Hershel and Evaline Greene, Beth, as she was known by her friends and family, was a shy, sweet girl who never caused trouble, and never rebelled, even after the passing of her mother, Evaline.

   According to her neighbor, Mrs. Pauline Keller, Beth lived alone, and never had any friends or suitors over before the night of her death, preferring to keep to herself.

   "She was such a sweet girl," Pauline wailed upon interview, waving her handkerchief through the air. "Always helped me carry my groceries up the steps. She used to bring me a slice of meatloaf from the diner. Such a tragedy."

   The other neighbors all said the same thing, that Beth was a good girl, quiet and respectful, but keeping to herself, with no friends since she'd moved to Fairfax, seeking independence and new life experiences.

   Maggie, Beth's sister, said that she sent her sister a text the night before that she had a date with a man she'd been talking to online, but when the number was called, it was no longer in service. Beth had said that the man's name was John Householder, and a quick search online brought them to a website for a local contractor by the same name. The picture on his site was of a much older man with white hair, and Andie's antennae were on alert as she and Ford left to meet him after confirming that he was home.

   They drove through the gated community in nearby Jefferson that Householder lived in, stopping in front of a large, two-story Tuscan style home. The grass was a manicured dark green, and the landscaping alone probably cost more than Andie made in a year. Abraham let out a low whistle as he scanned the street, and Andie knocked on the door, holding her badge in her hand.

   The door was answered almost immediately by the man in the picture, tall and slim, with white hair and brown eyes.

   "Good afternoon," Andie said, flashing her badge as Abraham did the same. "I'm Detective Saunders and this is Detective Ford. We're with the Fairfax Police Department. Thank you for taking the time to speak to us."

   "Please come in," Householder opened the door wider, and Andie stepped in, looking around closely. This was a man with refined taste, judging by what she could see. Imported Oriental rugs, leather furniture, and expensive art filled the rooms to the left and the right, and John Householder led them into the office immediately to the right, gesturing for them to have a seat.

   Andie was impressed with his book collection, spanning the entire right wall, from floor to ceiling.

   "That's an impressive volume of books," she said as he smiled.

   "I'm an avid reader," he told her, asking if they wanted anything to drink. Both detectives declined, and he perched across from them, crossing his legs at the knees. "How can I help you, detectives?"

   Andie opened her binder, pulling out a picture of Beth Greene, handing it to him. There was no spark of recognition in his eyes as he studied it, giving her a perplexed expression. "Do you recognize this woman?"

   "I'm afraid that I don't," he answered, handing it back to her. "Is she in some sort of trouble?"

   "She was murdered in her apartment last night," Ford said bluntly as Andie inwardly grimaced.

   Householder's face went pale as he slumped back in his seat, honestly shocked.

   "That's dreadful. I...I have no idea what to say."

   "Yes, it is," Andie agreed, tilting her head to the side. "The reason we've come to see you, Mr. Householder, is because Beth told her sister that she'd been speaking online to a man going by your name, and the phone number that was given is no longer in service. When we checked the name, your website came up, and you are the only person by this name within a hundred mile radius."

   "I don't spend time online," he said, a grey pallor settling on his face as his eyes fluttered, " and I certainly wouldn't be engaging in a relationship with a girl that is young enough to be my granddaughter."

   "You don't spend time online, yet you have a website, Mr. Householder," Abraham pointed out, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

   "As I said, I'm quite computer illiterate," Householder reiterated, rising up to go behind his desk. "I have a company that manages the website. If there are any inquiries for my services, they send me an email, and I contact the interested party over the phone. I'm afraid that electronic mail is the limit to what I can do."

   He retrieved a small business card, handing it to Andie, who glanced at it quickly. It was for a company called Quest Web Solutions, with an address, phone number, and email address, the area code being local.

   "John?"

   Three heads turned as a fourth joined them in the office, a man not much younger than Householder, also slim, but with salt-and-pepper hair and a pencil-thin mustache.

   "Is everything all right?"

   "I'm afraid not," Householder sighed, waving him forward. "A young woman has been killed, and the last person she spoke to was someone that went by my name."

   "Oh, that's just terrible," the man edged forward, and Andie stood up, offered her hand.

   "I'm Detective Saunders, and this is Detective Ford," she introduced them as the man squeezed her fingers gently in his own.

   "Leslie Monroe," he replied, moving to stand next to Householder. "I'm John's partner."

   Ah.

   Andie produced Beth's picture one more time, reaching across the coffee table to place it in Leslie's delicate palm. Closing his fingers gently, he turned it around, studying the blonde hair, blue eyes, and angelic face of Elizabeth Greene. He, too, did not seem to recognize her, and he shook his head sadly as he handed it back over.

   After asking a few more general questions, the two detectives handed over their business cards, and both men walked them to the door.

   "If you can think of anything at all, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, please don't hesitate to give us a call," Andie said, shaking John and Leslie's hand one more time before following Abe out the door and back to the car.

   "They're clueless," Ford muttered as they turned onto the main road, waiting behind another car at the guard's station. "Neither one had anything to do with this."

   "Well, I think we should stop at this Quest place and talk to whoever runs his website," Andie frowned, holding up the card. "Maybe whoever met Beth knew enough about this guy to feel confident enough to use his name, you know? Figured that since he didn't have much of an online presence that he could impersonate the guy enough to win Beth's trust."

   "Where are we headed?"

   Andie read him the address, and Ford punched it into the GPS, radioing Rick after to let him know where they were headed.

   Quest Web Solutions was a tiny storefront office smack dab in the middle of Pelican Plaza, twenty minutes from Householder's property, a nondescript display marking the entrance.

   The door was locked, the hours advertising that they were closed since it was Sunday, and Andie called the number, hearing the phone ring from outside. A recorded message picked up after four rings, and she left a message with her work number, implying that they needed to contact her as soon as they received it.

   Frustrated, she stared out of the window as Abe drove them back to the station, chewing on her thumbnail as her eyes lost focus. Ford knew enough about her to keep his mouth shut, as she was deep in thought. Theirs was a symbiotic partnership, and though he had just as much intelligence as Andie, she had a weirdly sharp insight into the thoughts and motives of a good deal of their suspects. He chalked it up to growing up with a father that was also a detective, some family gene or something.

   "Why the heart?" she muttered, glancing at him. The coroner's report had mentioned that the heart had nearly been cut in half, a series of jagged slices from the top of the organ ran almost to the bottom, seemingly done meticulously.

   "The sick bastard must've been in a state, or all hopped up on rage," Abe said, shrugging. "You saw the size of the hole in her chest."

   "Yeah, but whatever made the hole wasn't the same as what was used to cut the heart. The sternum was sawed open, but the heart was cut in one specific spot, zig-zagging straight through. It took time and patience to do what this person did."  
  
   "I don't know, but whoever it is, they're dangerous, and we need to find this guy."

   They were leading the investigation, but they weren't the only ones that we working on this dreary Sunday. All hands were one deck, given the gruesomeness of the crime, and the office was nearly empty when they arrived back. Everyone else was out interviewing just about anyone that Beth had known or interacted with since she'd arrived in Fairfax, and Andie sat down at her desk, dialing rapidly.

   "Forensics, Glenn speaking."

   "Hey, Glenn, it's Andie."

   "Hey, Detective. I don't have any updates yet. We're still waiting on the records from the phone company and her phone carrier. We expect it'll be tomorrow, and there's not much I can do since her phone wasn't found at the scene."

   "I figured, I just wanted to touch base."

   They chatted for another minute before Andie hung up, feeling frustrated even though she knew better. Television shows always made it seem like evidence and cases were wrapped up nice and neat in record time, but the truth was that it took weeks, if not months to close a case and present the evidence to the district attorney. But something about this particular murder felt ominous, that they needed something to go on.

   While she was ruminating, the door opened and two men that she'd never seen in her life came strolling through, heading straight for Rick's office. One was extremely tall, while the other was shorter, maybe Andie's height. Both were wearing heavy leather jackets, the short one's containing angel wings on the back.

   Swiveling in her seat, she watched through the captain's window as both men flashed badges, and Abraham cussed under his breath.

   "Since when did the Hell's Angel's have a police department?"

   Andie snorted, turning back around. She hadn't gotten a long look at the men, returning her attention to the photograph's that Abe had taken of the body.

   "Tell me something, Beth," she said softly, searching the girl's vacant eyes when her gaze was drawn to the woman's hair. Just below her ear, all of the blonde tresses were bent in the exact same spot, and Andie pointed out to Abe, who looked at her blankly. "I think she might've been wearing a rubber band or a clip or something. If her hair was being held back, it would've left a mark like this."

   It was something she knew well, since every time she took her hair down, she had the same indentations.

   "Did anyone log a hair clip when her body was brought in?"

   Abe pulled up the file on his computer, reading through it before shaking his head. "Nothing of note."

   Maybe fake John had taken it with him, a souvenir of sorts, and she scribbled that down in her notes, trying to form a picture in her mind of the man that Beth spent the last few moments of her life with.

   The sound of Rick clearing his throat made her head pop up, and the two men were standing behind him, both staring at her, one with a glare and the other smirking slightly.

   "Conference room. Now."

   He turned without further explanation, the bikers following him as Andie gathered a fresh notebook and pen, letting Abe go in front of her after raised his eyebrows at her.

   The conference room contained an oval table, eight very uncomfortable chairs, one well-used whiteboard, and two windows that looked out on the parking lot. Her boss was sitting on the left side of the table, next to the long-haired cop, the shorter one. The tall guy was sitting at the head of the table, one leg thrown casually on the edge of the wood, arms snaking back behind his chair, and Andie fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Guys like him were a dime a dozen in precincts all across the country.

   She and Abe sat across from Rick, and Andie set her pad and pen down, looking expectantly at him.

   "This is Abe and Andie, my lead detectives-"

   "Abe and Andie?" the tall guy chuckled, using one finger to motion to the two of them. "Do you guys sing folk songs together in your off time?"

   She could feel Abe tense up beside her, and she leaned forward, squinting her eyes in confusion.

   "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

   "I said, are you some kind of folk group with those matching names?"

   Shaking her head, she feigned uncertainty as Abe sat back, and the tall guy inclined his head. "One more time, please?"

   "I said-"

   "I'm sorry," she sighed, interrupting him with an apologetic smile. "I really can't seem to hear you over that outfit that's just _screaming_ 'mid-life crisis'."

   The shorter guy snorted, turning it into a cough as the tall one broke out into a full-fledged smile.

   "I like you."

   "Yeah, I don't care."

   "Saunders," Rick snapped, and Andie turned to face him with a slight nod. "Negan and Daryl are with the Atlanta PD, and they're here about the Greene case."

   "What about it?" Abe asked, giving the two men one of his patented scowls.

   "When we sent out the bulletin, it was picked up throughout the state, catching their eye, and they'd like to see the case file."

   Ford breathed out heavily through his nose before rising, returning with a binder filled with reports, the autopsy, and all statements that they'd collected so far, handing it to Rick, who passed it to the short guy, Andie wasn't sure if it was Daryl or Negan.

   It only took looking at the first few photos of the body for the smaller guy to let out a gruff 'fuck', sliding it over to the tall one, who dropped his leg to the floor, his attitude going from snarky to agitation.

   "It's him, goddamnit. It has to be."

   "It's who?" Abe interjected as neither one of them looked up.

   Andie felt her blood run cold when the tall one finally tore his eyes away from the pictures, giving her a glazed stare.

   "We call him The Heartbreaker. We think that this is the sixth woman he's murdered in this exact same fashion."

 

 

   He sat in the corner of the bookstore coffee shop, watching her as she spoke with a customer, her hands pointing towards the self-help section, patting the middle-aged woman's shoulder before sending her off in search of better ways to manage her life, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear before going back to unpacking the latest crime thriller from John Grisham and stacking it on the display table, making sure that the spines of the book lined up perfectly.

   From here, he could see the pale brown freckles that dotted her cheeks and arms, though he couldn't tell what color her eyes were. He hoped that they were blue, like Beth's, but green was nice, too. Green went well with the red hair that trailed down her back, and he reached into his pocket, rubbing the little clip that he carried with him. Jeweled, the smooth stones felt nice under his thumb, and he felt himself get hard, watching the pretty girl while he thought of Beth.

   "Not yet," he thought to himself. He would watch her for a while, to see if she had a boyfriend or a husband. He had all the time in the world, and it wouldn't be polite to move on from Beth so quickly, especially since Beth was his favorite. Of course, Shelly was his favorite before Beth. So was Lisa before her.

   "Can I get you anything else, sir?"

   His attention was drawn away from the pretty redhead by the dumpy waitress standing next to him, and he shot her a murderous glare before tossing a few dollars on the table without a word, standing up and walking out with one last look at her, at her red hair and freckles.

   Not yet.


	3. Prey Tell?

   Elizabeth Greene was laid to rest on Thursday, April the thirteenth, five days after she was found murdered in her apartment. The service was held in her hometown of Concord, Georgia, in the little white chapel not far from her father's home, and Andie sat in the last pew as friends and family of the Greene's paid their respects. The mood was somber, and

   Andie's eyes scanned the large crowd, searching for...something. Anything that looked out of place.

   But all she saw was sadness and shock, a natural reaction to a brutal death. Maggie and Hershel Green stood in the front of the small chapel, accepting words of comfort along with hugs and well-wishes. They were holding up as well as could be expected given the circumstances, and Andie joined the end of the line to pay her respects.

   Normally she didn't attend the funerals of anyone whose case she was working on, but this one was special. She felt the need to be here, to let Beth's family know that they were going to do everything possible to bring her killer to justice. 

   The autopsy was done and Beth had indeed been strangled to death, though the Greene family had been spared the gruesome details of her demise. She'd been strangled several times, brought to the brink of death, only to be resuscitated and have it done again. She was also drugged and raped before finally succumbing to her injuries, the damage to her chest and heart post-mortem. 

   It was the work of a man who'd done it before, that they knew, thanks to the detectives of the Atlanta police department. As it was, they were now working together on the case, with Detectives Daryl Dixon and Negan James. Her captain and theirs, a man named Philip Blake had formed a task force of sorts, consisting of the two from Atlanta and Abraham Ford along with herself. It had taken a bit of negotiating, but they were resolutely trying to keep the case from being taken over by the feds.

   Negan and Daryl were dispatched to Fairfax after wrapping up their own loose ends in Atlanta and would be here for the foreseeable future. Andie's mind wandered to the two men as the line slowly moved between the pews. They were much rougher around the edges than she was, and after a prickly introduction, they'd gone back to Atlanta to send them all the information that they had regarding the related murders. 

   In fact, they were due back into town on Friday, though Andie hadn't looked through the boxes of papers and pictures that were now secured in Rick's office. She'd been busy chasing down any bit of information that she could find on Beth's mystery date.

   A second round of interviews with Beth's neighbors had turned up very little. No one on her floor had heard anyone enter or leave, nor did they hear any odd noises from the apartment. Likewise, her boss, Jerry, said that Beth had never mentioned meeting a man named John Householder. All he could tell them was that she was in a good mood that night when she left after working the lunch shift, saying that she would see them the following day. 

   The owner of Quest Web Solutions was of little help, either, at first. After leaving them a message the day after Beth's discovery, a man named Gerald Conrad returned her call, and she and Ford went back to the little plaza to speak with him.

   Gerald Conrad was in his early thirties, the founder of the small company that managed websites for several local companies, including John Householder's consulting business.

   "I'm the only one that would have access to his information," Gerald had told them, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he picked through his files, producing a contract that Mr. Householder had signed, securing his services. "And I haven't made any changes to the layout in over ten months. His site is on the smaller side of the spectrum when it comes to business."

   "And have you noticed any unusual activity on the site?" Andie questioned, scanning the standard agreement. "Any more hits than usual?"

   "Let me check the statistics," he said, typing on the keyboard, his fingers moving quickly over the keys. He frowned after a few more clicks, his glasses sliding back down his nose.

   "That's odd."

   "What?" Abraham asked, leaning around the monitor to take a look, sitting back when Gerald turned it so that they could both see.

   "Normally, Mr. Householder's site averages about twenty to twenty-five hits per week, but from early March until last week, there weren't any."

   "Is that common?" Andie asked, almost as clueless as Householder regarding the analytic process. 

   "Like I said, it's odd," he reiterated, nibbling on the edge of his lip. "His web traffic is pretty consistent. Let me do some investigating to see if I can uncover a reason why."

   "Well, those dates coincide with the approximate time that someone began to impersonate John Householder," Abraham said thoughtfully, the wheels turning in his head as Andie wrote down the information. Gerald wasn't paying them much attention, turning the monitor back around as he typed and clicked furiously, sitting back with a sigh. 

   "I'm going to have to run several diagnostic tests," he explained, "and it's going to take a while. I can contact you if I find anything out of the ordinary."

   Andie gave him her card, and they were on the way, back to the office to go over more paperwork. 

   When Maggie called her to let her know when the funeral would be, Andie went into Rick's office, shutting the door behind her.

   "They're having the funeral for Beth Greene on Thursday," she told him as she sat down in front of him. He nodded once, staring at her blankly, obviously thinking of something else. "I'd like to go."

   He blinked several times and took a deep breath.

   "You know it's not good to get personally involved," he began, but she held up her hand.

   "This girl was butchered," Andie replied. "I'm not getting personally involved, but I feel I should pay my respects, and reassure the family that we're doing everything we can. It's bad enough what happened to her, but to know that the guy is out there somewhere? They don't need that worry on top of everything else."

   Rick nodded in agreement, turning his pen over and over in his hand, quiet for a while. "Ford can go with you."

   "It's fine," she told him, glancing out of the window over her shoulder at her partner. "He's no good in these types of situations. Besides, I'm sure he'd rather stay here and get caught up on paperwork."

   Rick smiled, a rare treat for his subordinates. "True. We don't need him offending them accidentally. Just call me if you see anything."

   Andie agreed, going back to her desk. He, like she, knew that sometimes killers liked to watch the families, taking some sort of sick satisfaction in their suffering, the same way they liked to hang around the crime scenes once the police arrived. It's why it was protocol to take pictures of the crowds in this day in age, to see if there were any anomalies.

   The two-hour drive to Concord had given her some time to turn her brain off, to just listen to music and try not to think of Beth Greene as a murder victim. She'd rather imagine the girl as she might've been when she was alive, with a gently curved smile and bright eyes, displaying intelligence and guile. From what she'd been told by her family, Beth would've been a good vet, showing a natural mothering tendency to the animals on her family farm.

   It was these thoughts that filled her head as she reached the front of the line, a large picture of the girl next to the closed casket showing her cuddling a brown and white calf, the animal laying across her legs in a field. Tamping down on the anger she felt at a life cut short, Andie murmured her apologies to Hershel Greene, his hand grasping hers firmly as he looked her in the eyes. 

   "Thank you for all that you're doing," he said in his lilting twang, a quiet dignity permeating the air around them. 

   "I'll be in touch when I have more information," she murmured, stepping aside as a rather large woman wobbled forward, nearly knocking the elderly man down when she reached to hug him.

   Maggie looked terrible, pale and barely on her feet when Andie approached, though her hands were steady when Andie took them into her own.

   "I'm so very sorry for your loss," she said, mildly surprised when Maggie pulled her arms free, embracing her as she let out a choked sob. 

   "Please find him," she cried, loud enough for everyone around to hear as it got deathly quiet. "He has to pay."

   "I promise you, we'll do everything we can to find him and bring Beth justice. I won't stop until he's found."

   They were never allowed to promise things like that, because there were no guarantees that the killer would ever be found, but Andie couldn't help it. If she didn't, this case would haunt her for the rest of her life, not to mention the fact that he'd do it again. Men like that always did. 

   Andie was emotionally worn down when she finally left the chapel, sitting in her car for a while to get her bearings. Rick had given her the day off, but the thought of going home was so unappealing that she got back on the road, deciding to go into work to try to live up to the promise that she made to find the Heartbreaker.

   Halfway back to the precinct, her phone rang, and she didn't even have to look at the display to know who it was, hitting the button.

   "Hey, dad."

   "Hi, poodle," her dad's voice filled the car, the speakerphone filling with his bombastic personality along with the sound of crashing waves. Retired Lieutenant George Saunders called his little girl every week without fail, checking to make sure that she was well while he enjoyed his retirement in sunny Mexico. "Where are you?"

   "Leaving a funeral," she said dully, flicking her turn signal as she veered to the left to pass a car that was moving so slowly, she was half tempted to flash her badge to scare them into moving.

   "The Greene girl," he guessed, clucking lightly. "It's a damned shame what happened to her. How's the investigation going?"

   "Still chasing down leads," she said carefully. "We have two detectives from Atlanta tapping in. This looks to be a pretty big one."

   "Serial?"

   "It appears so. Five other girls in the past three years."

   George Saunders' ears pricked up, and she could hear some of the Lieutenant coming through, the prospect of such a big find bringing out his cop side. "Do you need me to make some phone calls?"

   Andie had made it through ten years without calling in any favors from her father, and she wasn't about to start now. It was bad enough that everyone with a badge thought of her as his little girl, she didn't need him stepping in on her behalf.

   "No, dad," she sighed, easing off the gas when she was half a mile ahead of the snail-paced hatchback. "Abe and I are handling it. Plus we have the two guys from Atlanta."

   "Names?"

   "Daryl Dixon and Neg-"

   "Negan?" he interrupted in a sharp voice, piquing her interest. 

   "You know him?"

   "Only by reputation," he growled, making her smile, glad her dad couldn't see her. "He's an asshole. I'm surprised he still has a job. He doesn't follow protocol, poodle. Don't let him screw this case up for you. With a hothead like that, you're bound to run into trouble. And he's slept with half of the Atlanta police force, including the meter maids."

   So had her dad, though she knew bringing it up would only open a can of worms. He'd been well within his right to sleep around since her mom had died twenty years ago. 

   "I'll try not to let him charm the pants off of me," Andie chuckled as her father scolded her. They chatted for a few more minutes until a young, female voice asked him if he was ready to go surfing in a Spanish accent. Gross, she thought as she hung up.

   Had it been ten years earlier, her dad's warning would've sent her straight into Negan's clutches, but she was older, wiser, and had no intention of getting burned again by another co-worker. A disastrous relationship with her first partner cured her of that, all that time ago. Now she had a strict 'no cop' dating policy. Since that was all she spent her time around, her sex life had suffered. There were one-night stands here and there, but that was it. Her job was her life, and that was okay for now. She couldn't put enough of herself into a relationship at this point, so there was no use trying.

   She was so distracted that she didn't notice the hatchback following her all of the way back to Fairfax, a rookie mistake.

 

 

   Beth's funeral had been well-attended. He didn't go inside, instead parking across the street in the cemetery, hidden by black sedans and men carrying floral arrangements to the gravesite. This was the third one he'd spied on, the sight of people so distraught over his special girl giving him a thrill of pride. He'd chosen well. The last girl, Shelly, had barely had a dozen people attend hers. 

   He never felt bad when he'd give them their final release, but a part of him wished he'd waited a little longer to pull the trigger on Beth. She'd been so extra beautiful at the end, it would be hard to find another that fragile and willing after such a short time. But he was always on the lookout. He couldn't help it that he was such a catch. It would be a shame to deny the females of the world the pleasure of his company.

   That feeling roared like a predatory lion when he saw her walk out of the church. Dressed in a simple black dress and heels, she possessed a steel spine and confidence that was the complete opposite of his sweet Beth, who'd been so easy to overpower and dominate. 

   This one would be a challenge if he decided to pursue her. Not only was she conventionally pretty, she was probably intelligent, maybe a lawyer or even one of Beth's professors, judging by the way she carried herself, so unlike the others that had come to pay their respects. He wrote down her license plate number before heading down the road, back to his temporary home of Fairfax. 

   Imagine his surprise when she came barrelling past him on the two-lane highway, shooting him a vague dirty look, not really seeing him, only the fact that he was driving much too slow. Though the lion was demanding that he catch up to her speeding car, he played it cool, maintaining a safe distance as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

   A ladies' man such as himself only needed to bide his time. He could make her come to him. That feeling only intensified when they both drove into the city limits of Fairfax, and she turned into the police station parking lot. He slowed his car, parking along the sidewalk as she got out, striding into the building. 

    _How absolutely wonderful_ , he thought. She might be his new favorite.


	4. Blowing Off Steam

   Andie slapped Abe's hand away irritably as he tickled her ear for the third time, swearing at him to leave her the fuck alone.

   "We gotta go," he told her, drumming the back of her neck to piss her off. "Sasha's waiting on us, and I ain't spending the night on the couch. It's sex night."

   "I don't want to hear about your sex life," she muttered, ducking her head, "and I'm not done yet. I'll meet you at the restaurant when I'm finished, you red-headed asshole."

   Across the table, Daryl snorted as he shut the Greene case file, picking up his coffee cup. Abe and the other guys had bonded after a brief show of masculinity, leaving her drowning in a sea of testosterone for the entire day. He and Negan had arrived around nine this morning after checking into a nearby motel, and the day had been spent in the conference room reviewing the related cases trying to determine how the murdered women were linked other than the way they were killed.

   Just before noon, Gerald Conrad had contacted her to inform her that he'd completed the diagnostic whatever on John Householder's site, and she wrote down everything that he'd told her. The website had been hacked, and every time someone clicked on the link from a web search, it directed them to what Gerald called a mirror site, one that looked the exact same, except that there was no picture of the real John on the site. Andie's head started to swim as he explained that it was a sophisticated setup and that the IP address couldn't be pinned down because it changed every time the link was clicked on.

   "Whoever set this up knows what they're doing," he told her as Abe hovered over her, trying to read over her shoulder. "He or she is piggybacking on other assigned IP addresses, so I'm afraid that there's no real way to pin down who did this. All I can do is monitor the site to see if anyone logs onto the dummy email."

   "Okay, thanks for your help," she told him, slamming down the phone after Gerald hung up. She explained it to the other guys as best as she could, tossing her notes into her 'what the fuck am I going to do with this?' pile.

   After her conversation with her dad the day before, she watched Negan carefully throughout the day. True, he was loud as hell and swearing more than he probably breathed, but his notes were exemplary as well as his attention to detail. He was also very easy on the eyes, with dark hair and equally dark eyes. She could see how he made his way through the female population of Atlanta. Daryl was no slouch either, and despite the fact that his personality was akin to a brick wall, he probably did just as well in the dating department.

   Glenn had also called from the lab, informing them that the brown spot that Andie had noticed on the table of Beth's apartment was tested, and he'd found out that it was soy sauce.

   "That's not all," he told her after a beat of silence. "It contained large amounts of Ketamine."

   "And that would be?" she asked blankly, her hand beginning to cramp from writing everything down.

   "It's a sedative," he explained, and she could hear the sound of shuffling papers. "It's also a paralytic, so that might explain why there wasn't much struggle."

   "But there weren't any signs on her body that she'd been injected with anything," Andie pointed out as Negan's head snapped up, trapping her gaze under his as Glenn continued on.

   "That's because he probably laced the food with it. It was in the soy sauce and the other contents of her stomach. It would've taken some time to take effect, but the victim may have gotten drowsy before the paralytic took over, allowing him to arrange her on the floor."

   "And it's only available from a doctor?"

   "Unfortunately, no. It's also used as a recreational drug, so any decent dealer can probably get a hold of it."

   It wasn't Glenn's fault that she was getting nowhere with this case each time she got new information, and she bit back the urge to snap at him as he let her know that they should have the info from Beth's phone by Monday.

   "Well?" Daryl pressed when she hung up, and she tapped the pen against the paper, refusing to look up.

   "The food was dosed with Ketamine, a paralytic, and sedative," she announced. "Apparently it's a party drug, so whoever gave it to her could probably find it pretty easily."

   Negan snatched one of the files off of the pile, searching through a few pages before tapping his index finger in the middle.

   "That's the same drug that the previous victim, Lisa Potter was given. So he's going back to the well, repeating his steps since they seem to be fucking working for him. Daryl, who's that guy that you know in Vice? Dwight or something?"

   "Yeah, that's him," Daryl pulled out his cell, dialing some numbers. "I'll see who he knows that deals that kinda stuff."

   As soon as Dwight picked up, Daryl rose out of his seat, walking out of the conference room with a hushed voice, and Andie gave Negan an impressed smile, her stomach flittering when it was returned.

   "At least you're good for something," Abe announced, giving Andie a warning look.

   "There's a lot of things I'm good for, Redzilla," Negan called out as Ford left to get more coffee, leaving just him and Andie in the room.

   "So, you're George Saunders' little girl, huh?"

   "If you call me that again, you may end up with a bullet in your ass," she muttered, flipping open her laptop to research mirror sites and IP addresses, woefully over her head in the tech department.

   "I don't mean any harm, darlin'," Andie's head snapped up at the term, and he grinned. "I'm just making conversation."

   "Uh huh. You can call me Andie or Detective. Take your pick."

   "Andie it is, then."

   It was said in a deep, sandpaper voice, and her shoulders rose slightly as she tried to ignore him. At least he was dressed properly today, in a pair of black trousers and a grey button-down shirt that had the top two buttons undone.

   "Was anything missing from any of the scenes?" she asked suddenly, running her finger along her bottom lip as his eyebrow rose.

   "Like what?"

   "Anything," she said, thumbing through the pictures and sliding over the one that had been bothering her since she'd noticed it. "I think Beth is missing a hair clip. See how here hair crimps all in the same spot just behind her ear?"

   Negan studied it for a while before setting it aside and checking Lisa's file, his head tilting to the side.

   "The only thing that wasn't accounted for was a necklace, a pendant that had three cubic zirconia diamonds," he said, a touch of interest coloring his face. It prompted him to check the other files, but nothing else seemed to match. None of the other women were missing anything.

   Frustration built under her surface, but Negan's voice was surprisingly soft when he spoke again. "It doesn't mean that it's not important. Maybe he's evolving."

   "Maybe," she murmured as Daryl and Abe came back in at the same time, Daryl snapping his fingers together.

   "Dwight thinks he knows a couple of guys that might deal that shit. He's gonna hit 'em up tomorrow and let us know."

   Negan and Daryl chatted quietly to themselves before calling it a day, heading to the hotel to change. Abe offered them the opportunity to join Sasha and the others for dinner, but the declined, and he left Andie, warning her not to be too long, or they'd both feel Sasha's wrath.

   When her eyes began to burn, she cleaned up the office, feeling like everyone's maid, clearing away styrofoam cups filled with cold coffee and storing the files back in Rick's office before waving goodnight to the night shift.

   It was still daylight, and she headed for her car, ignoring the text message from Ford asking where she was. Friday's were their long-standing dinner dates, with Sasha and her brother Tyreese, who worked for the prosecutor's office. There was a 'no shop talk' policy in place, and she stopped at home to change clothes and freshen up before driving to the normal restaurant that they met at.

   Antonio's served the best Italian food in town, and there was a plate of fettucini Alfredo waiting for her as she avoided Sasha's dirty look.

   "Sorry," she apologized, shoving a forkful of pasta in her mouth, Tyreese laughing under his breath.

   "I don't think I ask for too much," Sasha complained, waiting until Andie looked up. "Two hours on Friday nights, and you blow me off more than you show up. What the hell?"

   "I said I was sorry," she looked helplessly at Abe, who turtled like a wimp. "I was trying to figure out-"

   "No details," Tyreese held up his hands, his beefy arms nearly splitting his dress shirt. "You set yourself up for this, Andie."

   "Tonight was supposed to be special," Sasha continued, leaning forward.

   "What's so special about tonight? It's not anyone's birthday, and none of us is celebrating an anniversary."

   "Is everything to your satisfaction?" the waiter appeared out of nowhere, giving everyone his full attention, and Andie wanted to kiss him for diffusing the tension. Sasha was nothing if not polite, and her face turned angelic in an instant as everyone indicated that all was well. "Let me know if you need anything."

   He disappeared as quickly as he'd shown up, and Abe took Sasha's hand, kissing her knuckles as they shared a secret look.

   "We're having a baby," he announced as Tyreese clapped him on the back, the sound reverberating so loudly that several diners turned to stare. Andie let out a squeal, jumping from her seat to hug Sasha, feeling her eyes prick with tears.

   "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she said, pulling Sasha out of her seat.

   "It was a little touch and go at the beginning, and we wanted to wait until we were into the second trimester," she explained as Andie cupped her cheeks. "The baby's due at the end of September."

   "Congratulations," she said, sniffling back happy tears, hugging Abe and Tyreese before taking her seat again, pushing the fettucini around on her plate. "I can't believe it."

   "Neither could we," Ford quipped. "When we were fixin' the Bisquick, we weren't exactly thinkin' we'd be makin' pancakes."

   Sasha slapped the back of his head, dissolving into laughter as he kissed her cheek, and Andie shook her head, shivering at the thought of the two of them having sex. Not an image she wanted of her partner and her friend.

   While Sasha and Andie discussed the baby, Tyreese and Abe turned their attention towards the next day when the two of them were supposed to go golfing, and she listened for over an hour about how Sasha found out, along with a bleeding scare before finally seeing a little heartbeat during her second ultrasound.

   "I'm so happy for you guys," she said, smiling as Sasha looked at her glass of wine with longing. "This baby's going to be so loved."

   "Well, with a godmother like you, how could we lose?"

   It took her a second to get it, and it sent her into a tailspin again, making her wipe her eyes as she accepted. Tyreese was going to be the godfather, doing a poor imitation of Marlon Brando to everyone's amusement.

   After they paid their bill and stepped out into the spring night, Andie declined their offer to hang at their house, telling them that she was exhausted, and they parted ways as she watched the trio talking happily, disappearing around the corner.

   She got in her car to head home, turning abruptly at the last minute, parking in front of a little bar called The Grove. It was a cop joint, and she decided that sitting there was better than spending the night at home alone.

   The jukebox was playing when she opened the door, immediately surrounded by the smell of draft beer and peanuts. The Grove was nothing special, just a little hole in the wall, but it was probably the safest place in the world other than the precinct, filled with fellow cops.

   Since it was a Friday night, the place was packed, and she shrugged out of her coat, hanging it by the door before weaving through the crowd to the bar, leaning her elbows on the smooth wood to wait for a drink.

   "Alexandra!" the bartender called out, making his way over. "Does your daddy know you're here?"

   "Hey, Judge," she laughed, getting on her tiptoes to lean over the bar to kiss his cheek. "I'd think so. He's been bringing me here since I was a kid."

   Judge was one of her father's oldest friends, and he'd bought the bar when he retired from the bench. Producing a fresh glass, he poured her a beer without waiting to see what she wanted, and she tossed a few dollars on the bar for him, sipping it as she scanned the room, frowning when she spied Negan in the corner, hitting on a blonde that helped out part-time answering the phones.

   Twelve hours in town, and he was already working his way through the lineup, she guessed, averting her gaze when he turned his head. Everyone had someone or something to make them happy tonight but her.

   The clack of balls hitting each other got her attention, and she wandered to the right towards the pool tables, where Simon was studying the green felt, trying to find a good move. He was playing against Daryl, who was leaning against the wall, wearing a sleeveless shirt and his motorcycle vest, watching with hawk eyes.

   "You could bank the ten ball," Andie said, gesturing with her drink as Simon looked up, twitching his mustache.

   "I could," he agreed with a wink, bending over to line up his cue, smacking it against the cue ball, sending it against two other balls that were touching each other, and both ricocheted towards opposite ends of the table, disappearing into the pockets. "Or I could just do that."

   Daryl let out a huff, extending his middle finger, and Simon made another shot, missing the third before coming to stand next to her, bumping his shoulder into hers.

   "How are you holding up? I heard you went to the girl's funeral yesterday."

   "I'm fine. Just wish we were moving the case along faster."

   "You'll figure it out. You always do."

   The cue ball bounced up in the air, nearly leaving the table, and Daryl cursed loudly as Simon laughed in response, and Andie perched on one of the barstools to watch, crossing her legs as the two men went back and forth, with Simon finally putting away the eight-ball.

   She was just draining her glass when Judge appeared with a fresh one, handing it over before jerking his thumb towards the bar.

   "This one's on him."

   Peering around Judge's retreating form, she smiled when a glass was raised in her direction. With as much dignity as she could find, she hopped down from the stool, heading over to thank her benefactor, aware of another set of eyes on her.

   "Thanks, Jimmy," she purred, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

   "You're welcome, beautiful," he dropped his head, brushing his lips against her ear. "Any chance you'd want to come back to my place tonight?"

   Jimmy was always good for some no strings attached screwing, and she kept her eyes on him as she chugged her beer, his smile getting wider when she slammed the drink down. Neither one of them were looking for a happily ever after, just a 'happy right now' and he put his arm around her as they started for the door, handing Andie her coat. As she slid her arms through, she met Negan's eyes, a fluttering in her stomach as he watched Jimmy take her by the hand to escort her out.

 

 

    _No, this couldn't be right_ , he thought as he stood in the alley across from the Grove as Andie came out, holding hands with some blonde guy, his hand sliding down to her ass as they walked towards an SUV. She was laughing at something, some secret little joke between the two of them, and he felt small and helpless as the headlights came on and the truck pulled out into traffic, taking her away, away with some other guy.

   This wasn't supposed to happen, he raged in his head, punching the brick wall, breathing heavily through his nose. She was supposed to wait for _him_ , not go home with some other guy.

   "Hey," a hoarse voice sounded out, as he turned to see an older man in tattered clothes shuffling towards him. "Get outta here, this is my spot."

   Before the bum could take two steps, he pulled out his switchblade, burying it in the vagrant's neck, the angry monster inside abated slightly as the man gasped and struggled for breath, clawing at his hands with wide eyes, the shock of events making his mouth open and close like a fish.

   He let the man's body slump to the ground, shutting the knife with a clicking sound and putting it back into his pocket, melting into the shadows of the alley before anyone could see him.

   It wasn't the release that he wanted, but it would have to do for now. The monster inside him had been fed enough to go back to sleep, to hibernate for a while so that he could process this turn of events and make a new plan.

   All wasn't lost, he decided as his blood-red hands unlocked the junker car that he'd traded the hatchback for. It just required a little more work, a little more effort on his end. They couldn't all just fall to the ground with their legs spread.

   A challenge was just what he needed.


	5. Entrapment

 

   " _Who is Mommy's special little boy?"_

_"I am," he chirped, starting up at her with wondering eyes. She was a vision, the red dress clinging to her body like it was made especially for her. Mother always wore the most heavenly perfume, and it settled around him like a cloud of hugs and kisses, keeping him safe and happy._

_"That's right," Mother said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek, leaving a bright red mark on the skin, the perfect shape of her perfect lips. "Mommy's friend is coming over, so you need to be very quiet and stay in your room, right?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Such a good boy," she cooed, patting his head before sweeping out, her hair bouncing with every step._

_He loved her so much, his perfect, wonderful Mother. It was okay that he had to share her with the strange men, and that they didn't know he was there. It was fine that he'd hear her moaning, sounding hurt in the other room._

_"It's okay," she'd told him time and again. "Mommy is happy. Mommy is having a good time."_

_And she did, for years. Always with different men, all that he wasn't allowed to see, until he finally did, peering out from the door, watching as they removed their ties and grabbed her bottom before the door to her room would shut and the moaning would start._

_Sometimes his private place would get uncomfortable when he'd hear them, their voices mingling together, and he'd rub it to make it feel better. Mother didn't have to know. It was his own personal secret._

_Their lives were perfect, a blissful spanse of time, just him and Mother, and the occasional man, until the one that tore it all apart. He came like the others, making Mother moan, but he was different. She wanted him all the time, yelling and shouting that she loved him, that she needed more. He shouted back that she knew this was just a fling, and that he was done._

_Mother no longer wore her pretty red dress, and the smell of perfume was long gone. Instead, she wandered through the house like a spirit, and nothing he did could make her happy. Not his good grades, not his excellence at sports. Mother was broken. The ladykiller ruined her until she finally ended her pain with a kitchen knife, and transferred it to him._

   He woke, drenched in sweat, swearing that he could smell her perfume, the feel of her lips on his cheek, and he stumbled to the bathroom, turning on the light, but there was nothing there. She'd been dead for years, and he was alone. He wasn't her special little boy anymore. Now he was like the ladykiller, making women love him and leaving them broken. 

   As he got back into the bed, he scrolled through his phone, checking each dating app for local girls, when one caught his eye, anger and pleasure combining as he stared at her picture, his index finger tracing the curves of her lips. 

   He needed the release. Soon.

 

 

   Andie walked through the conference room door, setting the coffee on the table before placing the donuts next to them, her bag hitting the ground with a thump.

   "Get it while it's hot," she muttered, Daryl and Negan each reaching for a cup. "Where's Abe?"

   "He called in sick," Daryl said, lifting the lid of the donut box, plucking out a chocolate frosted one and shoving half of it in his mouth. "Said it's comin' outta both ends."

   "You could've stopped at 'he called in sick'," she said, pulling out her chair. All of the files were haphazardly stacked on the table, including a message to call Glenn. Negan hadn't so much as glanced her way, and it puzzled her for a moment. "How long ago did he call?"

   "About five minutes or so," Negan said, taking a sip of his coffee.

   Andie dialed the number reflexively, having done it so often since she started in homicide, and Glenn answered after three rings. 

   "Hey, it's Saunders," she sat down, drumming her fingers anxiously on the table. "Tell me something good, Glenn."

   "Something good," he joked, and she snorted, causing Daryl to look up. "Actually, something great. We got the phone records and the carrier unlocked it, we're running diagnostics on it now."

   "I'm on my way."

   Standing up, Andie grabbed a donut and a napkin as both men looked interestedly at her, and she rustled around in her purse, finding her keys. 

   "Glenn's got the phone records and is unlocking the cell, so I'm heading over there."

   "I'm coming with you," Negan announced, getting to his feet, stretching his arms over his head as her mood dimmed a little. She had no desire to ride alone with him since he was acting aloof, but she shrugged, heading for the door. "So, how about that murder?"

   "Hmmm?"

   Her mouth was full of donut, and she gave him a quizzical look, suddenly remembering the stabbing outside the Grove on Saturday night. When she'd taxied back to get her car, there were officers everywhere, and one of them had told her that the homeless guy that sometimes panhandled outside the bar had been murdered. Andie assumed that it had been another vagrant, a dispute erupting over territory, and she shrugged.

   "It's a shame," she murmured, licking her finger. "Donnie never bothered anyone."

   "Kinda odd that no one saw anything," he observed, and she pressed her key fob, unlocking the door. Negan went around to the passenger's side, and Andie tossed her bag into the back seat, climbing in. He was wearing cologne, and the car immediately filled up with the scent, prompting her to open her window slightly. 

   "Well, there's no street cameras around there," she pointed out, backing out of the space. "He was in the alley, and it's pretty dark between the buildings."

   Negan didn't say anything, seemingly lost in thought until she cleared her throat. "Why? What are you thinking?"

   "I'm not thinking anything, darlin'," he said as she tensed up. She hated being called nicknames, especially by men she worked with, feeling that it was a way to marginalize her, a woman in a predominately male career. "Sorry. I mean detective." 

   There was a teasing undercurrent to his words, but she ignored it, getting lost in her own head. 

   "So, what's your deal?" she asked suddenly, staring straight ahead, feeling him shift next to her.

   "My deal?"

   "Yeah. Your deal."

   "I'm afraid you're going to have to elaborate, dar- detective."

   "My father knows you by reputation," she said after a long pause, "and it didn't sound too favorable, but I have to admit that your work holds up. The files are well organized and it doesn't seem like there's anything missing."

   He chuckled under his breath, spreading his legs out, and she busied herself with the radio, feeling stupid for prying, but she had to know something about him, finally looking up to see him watching her.

   "I admit I didn't take my job as seriously as I should've when I first joined the force. But despite the rumors that you've no doubt heard about my personal life, I follow the fucking rules, Andie. I'm not going to screw up this investigation."

   "I don't care about your personal life," she replied, sounding peevish to her own ears, and his eyebrow rose. "I just want to make sure that we do everything we can to catch this guy. What you do off the clock is between you and whoever you do it with, though I'd advise against screwing Clarice if you haven't already."

   "Clarice?"

   "The blonde you were hitting up on Saturday night. She gets kinda clingy."

   "Too late."

   He gave her a cocky smile, and she scowled back at him, annoyed for no good reason. The light changed to green, and she continued to drive, fighting the urge to toss him out of her car. What the hell was the matter with her?

   "So, allow _me_ to ask, what's your deal?"

   "I don't know what you mean."

   "Sure you do," Negan prodded, still watching her. "I've heard stories about you, too."

   "No idea what you're talking about," she murmured, thinking furiously about what could've been said about her. "Oh, look, we're here."

   The lab was a three-story brick and chrome building, housing all the most high-tech gadgets that the modern world had to offer, and Andie parked in one of the spots reserved for government employees, reaching back for her bag, ending up dangerously close to Negan's face.

   "I thought you didn't date cops," he said, inches from her mouth, and she could feel his breath as it spread across her lips.

   "I don't."

   "I saw you at the Grove, and you went home with that weasely looking desk jockey."

   She smirked at him before straightening back up, and she opened the door without answering him, though he caught up to her quickly.

   "Well?"

   What a pesky motherfucker. 

   "Like I said, I don't _date_ cops," was all she'd give him, opening the door. "Hey Frank," she greeted the guard, flashing her badge as Negan did the same. 

   "Good to see you, Andie," he waved them through the lobby, and she strode over to the elevator, pressing the button. Negan was hovering close behind her, holding the door when it opened, and she pressed the button for the basement, listening to the gentle ding of the of the bell, announcing that they'd arrive.

   The basement lab was brightly-lit, a row of desks along the opposite wall, the center of the room resembling a high school science class, albeit better equipped. Each of the stations was empty, and there was only one person in the cavernous room, staring at a computer monitor as rock music blared out of a speaker.

   Negan started for him, and Andie followed behind, making just behind the chair when Glenn turned around, jumping halfway out of his seat as he fumbled to turn the music off.

   "Jesus, you scared me," he stuttered, looking at Negan wide-eyed.

   "Sorry," Andie said, waving her hand towards the much larger man. "This is Negan, from the Atlanta force. He's here helping with the case."

   "Right," Glenn said, shaking his hand and wincing at the force behind it. "I talked to you this morning."

   They took a seat on either side of him, and he opened a secured file on his desktop, printing out two copies at the same time and handing it to each of them. 

   "So this is what the phone company sent me. These are the logs of all the calls Beth Greene made and received over the past two months. We traced all of the numbers, except the one that you gave me. All were to either her job, her family, and two friends that live in Concord. The disconnected number had the most frequent incoming calls, the last being placed on Friday morning, lasting two minutes and ten seconds. According to the phone company that the number was assigned to, it was out of service one hour later."

   "And did they say who it belonged to?" Negan asked, but Glenn shook his head. 

   "The number belonged to a prepaid phone."

   "Fucking fuckity fuck," he swore as Glenn gave her a terrified look, hurrying to grab the phone that was sitting on the desk. 

   "On a positive note," he said quickly, pressing the home button, "this is Beth's phone, and all of her apps are still listed. We were given her app store ID just in case, but nothing was removed from it. There were no prints other than hers on the phone, so you can go ahead and touch it."

   Andie took it gingerly like it was made of breakable glass, feeling sorry down to her soul when Beth's screensaver popped up. It was a picture of her and Maggie, there arms wrapped around each other, both of them laughing happily. _Talk to me, Beth_.

   There were all the usual apps present, including Facebook, Twitter, and some assorted games. Andie pressed the Twitter icon, and the newsfeed loaded slowly. Beth's picture was up in the corner, and she tapped on it, her basic info coming up. She had just one hundred followers and was following approximately the same amount. Scrolling through the list, she clicked on anyone with a male's picture, writing down each username in her notebook, doing the same with everyone that was following her. 

   Glenn explained to her that there were apps that could tell them if anyone had followed or unfollowed her, and he was going to work on that next. Andie did the same drill on Facebook and Instagram, filling several pages, even though Glenn offered to print something out for her, long after her hand started cramping. 

   The last thing she brought up was the dating app, her heart starting to pound. Beth was a member of something called MeetCute, the little icon showing a winking pink heart. Andie was hopelessly lost as the screen came up, and she handed it over to Glenn, who explained how the process worked. 

   Once you signed up for the app, you were issued a username from a generator, and your picture was posted, being shown only to people whose interests matched yours. You had the choice to scroll by or send them a winking pink heart emoji, thereby starting a possible conversation. 

   Beth's username was CutiePi3.14, and she'd listed horses, coffee, and all things sweet in her profile. It took them over an hour to pin down anyone that had sent her hearts, quite a lot, finally heading out loaded down with information.

   Glenn promised to keep working on the information, thinking that he'd have some names and contact information within forty-eight hours, and they left somewhat heartened that they had something to go on.

   On the drive back, Andie hummed along to the radio, her mood much improved, but it somehow skyrocketed when they pulled back into the precinct, and Negan laid his hand on her arm, getting her attention.

   "I also heard that you're one hell of a cop, and I look forward to getting to know you better," he said, sounding completely serious and not at all flirty.

   "Thank you."  
   It made the walk back up to the office kind of charged, and air of excitement and allure, at least on her end, and she sat down at the table immediately, updating Rick on what they'd found. 

   Copious notes were taken of the accounts that actually contained useful info about the men and women in Beth's online life, and when it was time to go, she sat back, rubbing her eyes gently.

   Daryl and Negan offered to buy her dinner, but she politely declined, smirking when she saw blonde hair bouncing through the room, and she sat back in her chair to watch the show.

   "Negan," Clarice was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. "So nice to see you. Do you have plans tonight?"

   He gave her a helpless look, and with a sigh, Andie stood up waving hello to the girl who'd acted like she didn't exist.

   "Hey, Clarice," she said, packing up the files as she got a short 'hi' in response, her face still focused on Negan. "I'm sorry to be such a downer, but Negan, Daryl, and I have dinner plans. Work stuff to go over. You understand."

   Andie could tell by the flair of her nostrils that no, she did not understand, yet she pasted a smile on her face, her cheeks turning pink as Negan gave her a pitying look.

   "Sure, sure," she said in a higher register, backing up. "Another time, then?"

   "Another time," Negan lied, turning his back on her and giving Andie a soundless thanks.

   "So, where are we dining?" he asked, giving a cheeky smile.

   "Antonio's. Seven o'clock."

   "See you then," he said, his eyes roaming over her face before turning and strutting out.

   "That's what you think, fool," she muttered after Daryl left. She had no intention of showing up, instead heading home and getting into comfortable clothes, her cell phone on her lap as she chewed on her thumbnail.

   Twenty minutes later, she had a brand new profile on MeetCute and the lamest username that could've ever been invented. 

   Sipping some wine, Andie watched the screen like a hawk, hoping that any of the men on the list would see WorkCutie<3 and think that she was worthy of a winking pink heart.

   "Come on fishy," she grumbled. "Take a nibble."


	6. The Past Can Come Back To Haunt You

_'I'm sorry, I'm still stuck at work'_

_Forget about it. Things just picked up here nicely ;)_

_'Ooh, spill!'_

_Tall and cute as hell, just like I like 'em_

_'_ _Name? Pic?'_

   ...

  _'Rosie, that's just a pic of an ass and a hand!'_

_Name's Adam and he's coming back! Gotta go_

_'Call me tomorrow! I want details!!!'_

 

   After standing around and stewing for twenty minutes, Rosita Espinosa's night turned around dramatically when a harried waiter approached her in the corner of the bar where she was waiting for her friend Holly, pressing another dirty martini into her hands, courtesy of the gentleman across the room.

   What had started as a coy flirtation turned into a seriously erotic seduction, and she quickly texted Holly back to tell her that she wasn't sticking around. She needed a good fuck, and Adam Jennings was perfect. Handsome and totally into her, she watched as he made his way back through the drunken crowd, sipping a water, his eyes locked onto hers, the attraction as visible as if it left a glowing aura between the two of them. She hadn't felt this alive, this desired since...

   Shaking off the memory of a love long gone, she set her drink aside as he got closer, giving him a come-hither gaze, licking her lips as she thought about what she was going to do to him tonight.

   "Do you wanna get out of here?" she whispered, running her fingers along the buttons on his shirt.

   "Absolutely," he grinned, taking her hand and leading her towards the exit and down the street towards her apartment. Living walking distance to a bar had its advantages, the tingling of her skin where it met his spurring her to move faster. Her heels clicked in a steady rhythm on the sidewalk, and Rosita fished her keys out of her pocket, having them in hand when they reached her building. 

    _Thank God I wore my matching lingerie_ , she thought, taking measured steps down the hall to the last door on the right. As soon as the lock turned, she smiled, pulling him into the dimly lit room, attacking him with her mouth.

 

 

   She was touching him roughly, throwing him off balance and making his mind race. This wasn't what he liked, the revulsion at her forwardness turning his stomach. Still, he tried to go with it, to get her guard down as she shoved her tongue down his throat, her fingers clutching at his hair, pulling him down to her height. 

   Fingers and tongues, insistently groping, trying to be _him_ , to be the one in charge of the pleasure. It sent him into a black rage, and his hand struck out automatically, the knuckles colliding with her cheek, sending her stumbling back as he panted.

   Shock gave way to anger, a flash of defiance that he dared to hit her, and she came flying back at him, standing up to him like none of the others had, landing a punch to his gut that made him double over.

   "Get the fuck out!" she screeched at him, raining blows onto his back as she continued to yell at him. "You pansy ass fucker. No one hits me!"

   When he came back to himself, he wasn't sure how much time had passed. The only thing he knew was that he was straddling Rosita's torso, his hands cramped from clutching her throat, and scratch marks coating the top of his hands. 

   No, no, no!

    _He_ was supposed to determine the release, not her. Now she was gone, and he got nothing. Nothing but scratches and the indelible ache of not making her happy, not making himself happy, and he hated her. Rosita never deserved him, and he swore that he'd never pick up another woman without researching her again.

   Rising off of her body, he sighed as he took the gloves out of his pocket, roaming through her apartment for everything he needed to remove all evidence that he was here, and when he was done, he couldn't resist stabbing her in the heart a few times. She wasn't worthy of the full experience, but it lessened the anger at being thwarted, somewhat. 

   There was always next time, and there would be a next time.  


 

   Andie shoved her personal items into her desk, making her way to the conference room, the first one to arrive, and she felt a sense of relief. During the past week, the tension had climbed every time that she and Negan were around each other to the point that they avoided even looking at each other. 

   Ever since she'd blown off dinner, he'd been short and dismissive with her, joining Abe on his duties as he met with some of the men that had contacted Beth through the dating app. Poor Abe was confused, though he never said anything, leaving Andie and Daryl to work together, and she did much of the talking.

   What Daryl lacked in conversation skills, he made up for in street smarts, quickly ruling out whoever didn't fit the characteristics that they were searching for. The two of them avoided any talk of Negan, other than the first day they paired up when he explained that Negan had been interested in spending time getting to know her.

   "We didn't have plans for fuck's sake," she snapped, regaining control of her temper as she drove. "I lied to Clarice as a favor. I already told him that I don't date cops, and I sure as shit wouldn't get involved with someone I was working a case with."

   "I get it," Daryl said, his gravelly voice filling the small space. "I'm just tellin' ya why he's acting like an asshole."

   "Fair enough," Andie conceded, scanning the house numbers for their next interview, knowing that it was going to be fruitless. This guy was too smart to keep his profile up, she was sure, but they dutifully did their duty, talking to a man named Jerrod Kline, a forty-two-year-old accountant that had seen better days. No way was he the one.

   As soon as they pulled out, her radio sounded, and she pressed the button to talk. 

   "Saunders."

   "It's Rick. I need you back at the station now."

   She and Daryl shared a look, her stomach doing flip-flops as she told him they were on their way. Daryl grabbed the siren, hooking it to the top of her roof, and they sped back to town in record time, parking sideways when they arrived.

   He took the steps two at a time, with Andie right behind him, heading straight for Rick's office, where Abe was hunched over a chair, hiding his face.

   "What? Is it Sasha?" she panted, crouching down next to him, but he was in some sort of stupor, and she looked helplessly to Rick, who wasn't looking too good himself. Negan was perched in the corner, ready to split skulls and she gave a frustrated huff. "Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!"

   "There's been another murder," Rick said faintly, gesturing for her to sit down, and she did, the back of her neck burning with nerves. "Rosita Espinosa was killed last night."

   "What?" It came out as a gasp, understanding immediately why Abe was so forlorn. Rosita was his ex-girlfriend, a longtime companion until he met Sasha, and the breakup had been painful. Andie had known her for years, and the prospect of her being gone was nearly unthinkable. 

   "We've got the lab at the scene collecting evidence, and under the circumstances, I think you should go with Negan and Daryl, as long as you can handle it."

   "Of course," she said, running her hand through her hair before placing it on Abe's shoulder. "We'll go now. Just let me splash some water on my face. I'll meet you guys downstairs."

   "Andie," Rick called her as she reached the door, and she turned to find everyone but Abe watching her closely. "There's something else you need to know."

   She knew what he was going to say before the words came out, her body filling with lead at the prospect.

   "They're sending in the feds. One fed in particular volunteered."

   Rick looked profoundly sorry, but she shook her head trying to smile as Negan gave Rick a murderously angry glare. 

   "It had to have happened sooner or later. At least he'll let us do our thing."

   "He promised," Rick assured her with a wave of his hand, dismissing her. 

   Andie walked to the women's restroom, gripping the sink to keep from falling over, her mind a blank. Rosita was gone, and they were no closer to figuring out who'd done this. Worse, she was going to have to face him, her old partner and love, the man she thought she'd spend the rest of her life with. 

   Turning on the water, she splashed her cheeks, patting them with a paper towel that she threw towards the wastebasket, missing. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. 

   By the time she got everything she needed, Negan and Daryl were waiting by her car, both leaning against the hood, talking quietly. As soon as they saw her, they both shut up, Negan going to the passenger's side as Daryl waited to get into the back. 

   Andie pressed the fob, unlocking the car, and both got in, Daryl setting her bag on the seat next to him. The silence was both welcoming and unsettling as they drove, Negan finally breaking the stalemate when they were about halfway there.

   "So who's this guy that's coming?"

   She laughed tonelessly, keeping her eyes on the road.

   "He's the reason I don't date cops."

   Neither one said anything, and she counted her breaths as she drove, doing everything in her power to become a machine, to focus only on the case. Not the fact that she knew the victim or that her life felt like it was spinning out of control. Just the facts, ma'am.

   The street was blocked off, and she flashed her badge to get access through, parking along the entrance to Rosita's apartment, a place she'd been many times. Dinners, silly game nights. Many hours with her and Abe, and she fixed a neutral expression on her face as they climbed the steps to her apartment, getting a quick rundown by the cop who'd been dispatched to the scene after a phone call from Holly, Rosita's friend. 

   Like Maggie before her, Holly had discovered Rosita's body after letting herself into the apartment, and she was almost comatose with shock. Even the sight of Andie couldn't break her out of it, and she instructed the officer to drive her to the hospital and get a statement as quickly as humanly possible to preserve any information that she had.

   Daryl and Negan were first through the door, having their first encounter with Eugene, who'd already pronounced Rosita dead, most likely by strangulation, the same as Beth.

   Andie moved automatically through the apartment, looking for anything that might be missing, taking pictures of every inch of the place, including the body. Curiously, she noticed right away that Rosita's nails had been cut all of the ways down, and it was definitely odd. She was nothing if not girly, usually sporting perfect manicures, and with a gloved hand, she lifted her right hand, examining it up close. 

   Rosita hadn't done this, of that she was sure since the shellac that coated the nails was jagged and unfiled. Andie knew then that Rosita probably had put up a struggle, and ordered the lab to sweep the entire area for hairs, skin, anything that they could catalog for comparison in the database. If she was strong enough to fight back, there was a chance that whoever did this got injured as well, and she called Negan over.

   "I'm not sure that she was drugged," she said softly, showing him the nails. "I think she fought back. Something might've gone wrong."

   "That girl Holly might've given us a break, too. Rosita texted her last night about meeting a guy named Adam, and she took a blurry picture."

   "Christ, tell me she got a face."

   "Not quite," he sighed, looking down at Rosita's face. "Just an ass and an arm."

   "And that helps us how?"

   Negan smiled, throwing her off a little, and he leaned in so that no one else could hear.

   "Because whoever he is, he owns a Piguet watch."

   Andie looked at him blankly, and he took her by the hand, leading her out of the room to the corner of the hallway, seemingly excited, though she didn't quite understand why.

   "At the very least, a Piguet costs around twenty thousand dollars, and as soon as we figure out which type it is, we can start tracing retailers. This is a nice break, detective," he grinned. "We know our guy has money, and money means resources, but that doesn't mean that we can't catch him."

   "And if he bought it at a boutique, they more than likely have security cameras."

   "Now you're getting it," he said, sounding a little smug, but she didn't care. It was a fucking break, even if it was small, and Andie felt the urge to either high-five him or hug him. 

   "Good catch, detective. Just one question, though."

   His eyebrows rose as she squinted at him, and she shook her head slightly. 

   "How the fuck did you know what kind of watch it was from a shitty cell phone picture?"

   "Those types of timepieces are very distinctive, and I may have, uh, researched them extensively," he admitted, making her bite her lip to keep from laughing. "So fucking what? Maybe I'll own one someday."

   "Okay, okay," she conceded, holding up her hands. "No need to get defensive."

   They went back into the apartment to wrap things up, and Andie found herself looking at him, fighting a grin now and then. It was so...human and unexpected to think that he had dreams that didn't revolve around banging random women, and she realized that she didn't really know too much about Negan.

   Daryl was brought into the loop, and the room seemed to get a little more focused as they cataloged the rest of the evidence, seeing the guys from the lab off just after four o'clock.

   "So, are you guys planning on sticking around for a while?" she asked as they drove back to the precinct, glancing at Daryl in the rearview mirror, and he nodded once.

   "Think so. Why?"

   Hoping that she wasn't overstepping her bounds, she looked back at him briefly before glancing at Negan, who was watching her curiously.

   "Well, I'm sure living in a hotel sucks, and my neighbor is a traveling nurse. She just left for a six-week stint in Dallas. If you want, I can call her to see if you can sublet her apartment short-term. She does it a few times a year, and it's always worked out well. But it's up to you."

   Neither man said anything, and she could tell that they were holding some sort of silent conversation, so she concentrated on the road until Daryl cleared his throat. 

   "Is the place super girly?"

   "I don't think so. Does it matter?"

   "Guess not," he huffed, looking down at his lap. "Is it gonna bother ya having us nearby?"

   She thought about it for a moment, realizing that by having them across the way, she'd be subject to all sorts of things, including Negan's revolving door of women, and Andie wasn't sure if that bothered her or not. Negan's stare was burning into the side of her face, so she half-shrugged, half shook her head.

   "Won't bother me," she said as her phone beeped, and when they got to the next stoplight, she checked her phone, shutting it off quickly as Negan turned his head to give her privacy. "It might actually give us a chance to brainstorm without being stuck in the conference room."

   "That works for me," Daryl told her, though Negan said nothing, and as soon as she parked the car, she shot a quick text to Dawn, her neighbor, asking her to call when she had a free moment.

   He was the first one out of the car, jogging towards the entrance as Andie got her bag out, wondering why Negan was hovering around waiting for her. They walked in tandem towards the door, and he took the bag, holding the door open for her.

   "Thank you."

   "Are you ever going to have dinner with me?"

   She was just about to answer him when her face dropped, going slightly pale. Negan turned around, and his own hardened as he saw Rick standing with a guy almost as tall as he was. Wearing a blue FBI jacket, he was staring intently at Andie, almost itching to say something. 

   Rick looked uneasily between the two of them, but Andie merely squared her shoulders, closing the distance between them. Negan was right behind her, and he felt the odd urge to put himself in front of her, wanting to protect her from this smarmy dickhead.

   "It's good to see you, Detective," the man said, looking at her with interest. He never even glanced at Negan, all of his attention on Andie. She either couldn't or wouldn't speak, and Rick awkwardly gestured towards his office. 

   Andie was the first one to walk, and Negan cut the guy off, moving right behind her as the guy laughed under his breath, crossing his arms as he took his usual spot in the corner. Daryl was already in the other corner, and he glared at the unnamed guy who sat down behind Rick's desk, his eyes only on her. 

   "Daryl, Negan, this is my old friend Shane," Rick introduced them, and Shane finally granted them eye contact. "Shane Walsh, meet the two detectives from Atlanta that are helping on this case."

   All three of the men grunted at each other, the tension in the room so thick that Andie finally excused herself, walking quickly out of the room. She hadn't seen him for five years, and it felt like yesterday, all of the hurt washing over her. Once she got into the ladies' room, she sat down on the toilet, shuddering as one single tear dripped from her eye, landing on her ring finger. The exact same one that used to hold an engagement ring, and now didn't.

   Because Shane had broken her heart, and now he was back.


	7. Midnight Confessions and Dirty Bombs

   Andie always prided herself on her ability to see the forest for the trees. Growing up with George Saunders as a father meant that she would always be focused, plotting ahead to get to the finish line, no matter what race she was in. Whether it was academically or in actual physical situations, she knew what to do and how to do it.

   Except when it came to Shane Walsh.

   They'd been paired up when she graduated from training, a rookie trying to prove herself to men and women that had spent almost a lifetime trying to live up to George Saunders' expectations and lofty aspirations. When she walked in on her first day of patrol, he was waiting for her, chewing on a toothpick and leaning against the lockers as she stored her belongings, nerves and excitement making it hard to breathe.

   "So, you're the new baby blue," he said, his twangy voice making her stiffen slightly. When she turned to face him, he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, and he pushed himself upright, standing to his full height as she blinked rapidly. Tall, with dark hair, piercing brown eyes and a broad nose, he reeked of masculine prowess, throwing her off balance immediately. "Looks like we're partnered up, so get moving."

   He barely spoke to her the first day, letting her feel her way through their first shift, and when they arrived back at the precinct, all he told her was 'good job', leaving to head out with his buddy, Rick. Those two words meant more to her than any glowing adjectives that he could've thrown her way, and from there, she blossomed, because he believed in her. Shane trusted her with his life.

   Their relationship went from friendship to romance after a harrowing call, three months into her career, a domestic situation that culminated in a shootout, Shane tackling the drunken abuser and disarming him, but not before he got a shot off, hitting him in the shoulder. She was able to block out the danger, the imminent risk to Shane as she pressed her knee into the suspect's back, cuffing him. But when she saw how badly he was bleeding, Andie's only thought was to get him help, and she rode with him, watching as the blood dripped onto the floor.

   He was rushed into surgery, the waiting room filled with fellow officers and friends, and she sat next to Rick, refusing to wash the blood from her hands, rocked to her core as she waited for word that he would be okay. The doctor came out a few hours later, and Andie shot out of her seat, the first to reach him, Rick just behind her.

   "He's going to be fine," the doctor said, patting her on the shoulder as she sagged in relief. "You can go see him."

   A kindly nurse took her to Shane's recovery room, and she let out a sob when she saw him bandaged up, looking frail in a way that she'd never imagined that he could be. His black hair was plastered to his forehead, and his skin was almost as translucent as the sheets he was laying on. Shakily, Andie went to his bedside, and his eyelids fluttered at the same time as his hand reached for her.

   "You fucking idiot," she whispered, holding his good arm to her chest, and he smiled wanly.

   "Sorry, Blue."

   He always called her that, ever since her first day on the job, and she smoothed his hair back, her heart aching when he leaned into her touch. Before she could even think about what she was doing, she bent over, kissing him softly on the lips.

   "It's about damn time you realized you were crazy about me," he murmured, the cocksure tone of a man that knew they were going to end up together. Andie didn't say anything, too afraid of what would come out of her mouth.

   She was saved from herself when Rick came in, looking so relieved that he might pass out, and Andie took a few steps back so that he could see his oldest and dearest friend. Shane's eyes never left hers until he finally drifted off to sleep, and the nurse that had shown her in quietly told them that visiting hours were over for the night.

 

"Before he came back to work, I met with our Captain at the time, and switched partners."

   Andie stared off into the distance, reliving the four years that she and Shane were together in an instant, every fight, every time they made love, every trip to the grocery store. It had all been shuttled away inside her, pressed down when he left for Virginia, breaking his promise to be her partner in life when he got the call from Quantico. A call that he never told her was coming.

   "Are ya sure yer up for this?"

   Daryl was sitting across from her at the Grove, nursing a beer as she took a deep breath. Andie had successfully avoided all conversation with Shane since Negan had taken it upon himself to relay all pertinent information to him regarding the cases. Every time Shane would ask a question, each time directed at Andie, Daryl or Negan would answer, and she kept her head down, afraid that if she looked at him for too long, he'd see the damage he'd done to her, and she'd be damned if he deserved anything from her.

   "Let's call it a day," Rick said when the sun went down, and Andie was the first one out of her seat, walking to the door with purpose, that being getting a drink. Not bothering to stop home and change, she went straight to the Grove, giving Simon a half-assed wave before parking herself in the back booth away from everyone.

   More angry at herself than the fact that Shane was back, it irritated her more than anything that he had any sort of effect on her after five years. Was it because she had no time to prepare herself, or was it because of the way that he was looking at her throughout the day, like she was the one who'd wrecked everything that they'd built together?

   Daryl ended up coming in about ten minutes after her, and he hovered in her general area before she finally called him over to join her. In a way, it was sweet that he was concerned about her, and she told him briefly about their relationship. Was she up for this?

   "I'll be fine," Andie told him, not really believing it herself. "As long as he stays professional, it'll be fine. He's a good agent, so he may have some insight that we don't. But if you can figure out how to catch this freak in the next twenty-four hours, I won't complain."

   Daryl smiled, and she clinked their bottles together, rising to get them another round. When she came back, her phone was vibrating, so she checked the screen, answering it immediately.

   "Hey, Dawn," she said, excusing herself to take the call outside where it was quieter. Her neighbor was fine with Daryl and Negan subletting her apartment, especially since they were both cops, and she said she'd fire off an email agreement, telling Andie to give them her spare key, of which she had a copy. After chatting for a few minutes, she thanked the young woman again, sticking the phone into her pocket.

   As she turned to go back inside, she ran into a solid chest, bouncing back, startled.

   "Sorry," she muttered, looking up into Shane's face.

   "Can we talk, Blue? You've been avoiding me all day."

   "Don't call me that," she said automatically, the name stinging her ears. "Is it about the case?"

   "No-"

   "Then no," she told him, trying to step around him. "There's nothing else we need to talk about."

   "Andie, c'mon," he took her by the arm, but she shook him off, her temper flaring. "It's been five years."

   "Exactly," she snapped, glaring at him. "It's water under the bridge, Shane. We're not partners, and we're not friends, so there's really nothing to say."

   His nostrils were flaring, a sure sign that he was getting angry, but she didn't give a shit, leaving him standing in front of the bar as she worked to get some distance from him and her own feelings.

    _Fucking asshole_ , she thought, slamming herself back down in the booth. Goddamned right it's been five years, and he was thinking that she was still pining over him. It couldn't be further from the truth. She just had no interest in revisiting a failed relationship.

   Daryl was at the pool table, and she kept one eye on him and the other on the door, watching to make sure Shane didn't ambush her again, but the only one that approached her was Judge with a fresh beer, courtesy of Jimmy. It would be easy to get up and go over to him, to head to his apartment for some mindless sex, but she wasn't in the mood, so she told Judge to reciprocate the drink to communicate that she wasn't interested. It was their failsafe signal to back off.

   Ten minutes later, Shane came in the bar, surrounded immediately by old friends and co-workers, and Daryl took his seat, watching him with furrowed brows. Andie was touched that he felt protective of her, and she thanked him for hanging out with her.

   "It ain't for pity," he assured her, keeping watch behind her back. "I knew guys like that back in school. Always had to be the top dog, and they hated taking 'no' for an answer."

   That was Shane in a nutshell, she realized. Their relationship wasn't perfect by any means. He could be stubborn and mean sometimes when he didn't get his way. He would shut her out, making her feel like she was a bother, and it struck her that time had glossed over those facts, giving her a little bit of peace. He was most likely someone else's problem now.

   Daryl nodded his head once, and Andie glanced behind her, surprised to see Negan heading their way empty-handed. He stood next to her, waiting until she slid over, plopping down next to her, squishing her into the wall.

   "Where the hell ya been?" Daryl griped, giving him an annoyed grunt.

   "Talking to the lab," Negan said, giving Andie a once-over, reaching for the bowl of nuts and popping a few in his mouth. "That weird coroner was able to recover some skin cells from under Rosita's nails."

   "Oh my God," Andie exclaimed, excitement flooding her chest, and Shane was quickly forgotten. "How soon will they have something?"

   "Glenn thinks about two to three days," he said. "He's putting a rush on it, and they'll run it through the database."

   "You're up, redneck," Craig called out, using his pool cue to point at Daryl. Craig was an asshole of the highest order, one of those cops that thought that his badge made him a man, and Daryl stood up, flipping him off.

   "I may be a redneck, but at least I see my own dick," Daryl shot back, making Craig's face turn beet red. Balding, with a beer belly that made it nearly impossible for him to get behind the wheel of a cruiser, Craig had no room to trash talk anyone else, and Andie laughed as he spluttered, half the bar shouting 'oooh'.

   She could feel herself mellowing out until a high-pitched feminine voice sounded over the clacking of the balls, and she looked up to see Clarice, staring at Negan with a hopeful expression.

   "Hey," she breathed, reaching out one hand to touch him. "I wasn't sure you'd be here tonight."

   "Clarice," he said gently, and her pupils dilated just hearing her name, but Andie spoke up, cutting him off, abruptly pissed _at_ her and _for_ her.

   "I'm not invisible, am I?" Andie asked, loud enough to get a startled look from Clarice. "Oh, good. You can see that I'm sitting right here next to him in the booth."

   "Sorry," she mumbled. "I thought that..."

   "How do you know we aren't here on a date?" Andie pressed, setting her hand on Negan's thigh. "Would you walk up to any other man that was in the company of another woman and try to proposition him?"

   "But you said you were..." Clarice spluttered, her cheeks turning pink, and Andie shook her head.

   "How have you not figured out that he's a 'hit it and quit it' kinda guy?" she said, ignoring the fact that Negan put his hand on top of hers so that she couldn't remove it from his upper thigh. "Did you promise her anything other than a one night stand?"

   Negan shook his head with a sigh, fixing Clarice with a gentle smile, and Andie dug fingers in hard, making him wince.

   "You're a great girl, and I had a fucking awesome time with you, but I'm just not the guy for you. You need someone who's gonna romance you, sweetheart."

   The silence was awkward until Clarice backed away fleeing through the entrance with as much dignity as she could, and when she was gone, Andie pulled her arm free, elbowing Negan in the ribs.

   "Let me the fuck out," she hissed, feeling like an asshole. She didn't mean to take her anger out on Clarice, but it was frustrating to be ignored and dismissed and also to see it happen to someone else.

   Negan slid out of the seat, and she grabbed her purse, stalking through the crowd out into the fresh air, taking several deep breaths until she heard the door open, a brief cloud of sound and smell drifting out, and when she turned around, Shane was standing there. Her eyes shut tightly, her hands clenching into fists.

   "What in the hell is going on with you?" he asked, but she refused to dignify him with an answer. "Do you know how many times I tried to call you? To see you?"

   "Why would I want to see you?" she screeched, making a guy across the street turn to watch. "You fucking walked out on me for a job, Shane. Six months before we were supposed to get married, you walk in and announce you're leaving for Virginia, with no discussion."

   "It was everything I wanted, Andie," he took her by the shoulders. "It was my goddamned dream to go to Quantico. I couldn't let it slip away. I begged you to come with me, to start a life there, but you cut me out."

   "No, you didn't. You told me if I didn't come, we were done. I loved you," she said, her throat closing up as he panted, his eyes wilder than she'd ever seen them. "You were _my_ dream. _Here_."

   He bent down to kiss her, but she pushed him roughly, knocking him back a couple of steps.

   "Don't."

   "I still love you, Blue. That's never changed."

   Andie laughed in disbelief, taking one step back.

   "It does when you're engaged, asshole."

   His mouth dropped open abruptly, and she nodded her head. "Yeah, I know all about Jeannie."

   "Rick told you," he guessed, barely audible.

   "And _I_ told _you_ ," she clarified, running a finger under her right eye, catching that one fucking tear she always seemed to shed where Shane was concerned, "if you want to discuss the case, I'm available. Other than that, we'll have nothing to do with each other."

   Andie turned away and started down the street, turning around to see him staring after her with his hands dug down in his pockets, and it made her heart break one more time.

   "Congratulations, by the way."

   There was a diner around the corner, similar to the one that Beth used to work at, and Andie sat down to try to get her bearings. The waitress brought her a cup of coffee, and she dumped some cream and sugar in, stirring it as she zoned out, thinking about how easy it would've been to let Shane kiss her.

   He was the only one that had ever made her feel safe and like she had a home. George Saunders was a loving father, but his job always came first. Always. Especially after her mother died. Andie had never minded until she met Shane and realized what she was missing.

   A cheerleader. Someone to stand on the sidelines an push her towards the finish line. Someone that she could lay in bed at night with and confess her fears, her hopes and dreams. But he'd taken it in, and left her with nothing the day he packed his bag and left, and she'd never let anyone else in since.

   A flash in front of her eyes brought her back to reality, and Negan propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his fists as he studied her.

   "I accidentally on purpose heard your conversation with the dickhead," he told her without an ounce of shame and Andie didn't even have enough anger to chew him out. "That really fucking sucks, detective."

   "I hope you were entertained," she muttered, resuming stirring her coffee until he plucked the spoon from her hand and pushed the cup towards her.

   The waitress brought over a fresh cup, and Negan thanked her, drinking it black as she stared through him.

   "I was married."

   He said it like he was commenting on the weather, and her eyes bugged out, trying to picture him living a domestic life and failing miserably.

   "Name was Lucille," he continued, watching his hands as they turned the cup in slow circles. "Fucking beautiful woman, she was. We married young and lived in the suburbs. I used to volunteer as a coach for the high school baseball team, and she worked as a secretary for the mayor of Atlanta."

   "Okay," she said carefully, not sure where he was going with this plethora of information.

   "I used to fuck around on her," he looked up, no trace of humor or cockiness anywhere. "A few girlfriends on the side, but mostly one-night stands. Even though I loved her more than my own goddamned life, I cheated on her. She knew, and she never said anything, because she loved me, and just wanted me to be happy. Until the day that she collapsed in our front yard."

   His eyes went back down to the table, and Andie fought the urge to reach out and pat his hand. In a million years, she never would've thought that he was married. In love, no less.

   "She died six months later, my Lucille. After that day she passed out, I dropped the women and spent the rest of her life taking care of her, being the husband I should've been, but it was too late. I buried her on the most beautiful day in June, in her favorite blue dress."

   "I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling trapped in his gaze when he looked up.

   "She deserved someone better than I could've ever been," Negan said, "and ever since that day, I swore to myself that I'd never put another woman through what I did to her. That's why I just sleep around, because that's all I can do."

   "Why are you telling me this, Negan?" she asked, watching him closely, ignoring the soft tickle that was moving up and down her spine.

   "I don't know," he admitted, maybe the most truthful thing he'd ever said in his life. "Maybe because I see a little bit of me in you, and I'd hate for you to end up like me."

 

 

   He stood across the street from the diner, having followed Andie when she left the bar. Hidden in the shadows of the alley, he watched, fascinated as she fought with a tall guy with dark hair, feeling proud when the man tried to kiss her, and she pushed him away.

   That feeling lasted exactly as long as it took for another man to join her at her booth in the diner, and he skittered forward to get a good look, reeling back in shock when he recognized the man from long ago.

   " _This was only a fling, sweetheart," he said, zipping up his leather jacket. "I ain't built for a relationship."_

   It was _him_.

   The man who'd killed his mother, and he was sitting with Andie.

   Ducking back across the street, he vomited into a metal trash can, wiping his mouth, feeling ghostly lipstick on his cheek and smelling perfume in the air. Sliding down against the side of the building, he wrapped his arms around his knees like a child, watching Andie talk to him, hating the growing intimacy between the two of them.

   He wouldn't lose another woman to Negan. He'd kill her before he'd ever allow that to happen.

   Long after the two of them left, he continued to sit there, his eyes shut as he cried for his mother, vowing to ruin the life of the man who broke her heart and wrecked his world.


	8. Cowboy Up

 

   For the second time in as many weeks, Andie donned her black dress for a funeral, parking outside of St. Charles Church for the memorial service of Rosita Espinosa.

   The pews were filled, but Rick stood up as she scanned the crowd, waving her to the space he'd saved. His wife Lori, stood up, kissing her on the cheek as she squeezed past. 

   Abraham was sitting in the row ahead, and Sasha turned around to give her a somber smile. 'How is he?' Andie mouthed to her, getting only a slow shake of Sasha's head in response. 

   Rosita was interned in a silver coffin that was strewed with red roses, and the priest began the service, speaking about the fragility of life as Andie did her best to concentrate. Sasha kissed Abraham's cheek twice as Rick held Lori's hand, and Andie folded her own in her lap, suddenly wishing that she had someone to lean on.

   Holly stood up to read from the Bible, and she was so shaky that another woman had to come up and take her place, the sound of her sobs echoing through the church. It was hard not to feel guilty, because if they'd caught the guy already, Rosita would still be here. But all they could do now was work their asses off to find him and make sure that Maggie, Holly, and everyone else got to see him receive the death penalty.

   When the service was over, Andie followed the cars to the cemetery, watching solemnly as the casket was lowered into the ground, and she tossed in a single red rose that had been given to her.

   Rick asked her if she wanted to come to his house, but she declined, saying that she'd see him on Monday. As she turned to leave, he approached Abe, pulling him into a guy hug, half-armed as Sasha chatted with Lori. No sense being the fifth wheel. 

   Though she was wearing a dress an heels, Andie drove to the grocery store, knowing that her cupboards were woefully empty. In fact, if someone showed up unannounced at her home, she'd have nothing to offer them. 

   Wegmans was reasonably packed, and she tossed her purse into the shopping cart, perusing the early spring fruit as she weighed her options. As she was loading green apples into a clear plastic bag, the bottom split and two of them bounced on the ground rolling away as she cursed under her breath. 

   She bent down to pick them up, but they were snatched easily by two large hands, and she straightened up to a strikingly handsome, smiling face.

   "Apples are the assholes of the fruit world, don't ya think?" he said, holding them out to her as she gave him a bemused grin. The man was roughly her age, with dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was a full head taller than her, so she peered up at him as she took the apples.

   "They are," she agreed, setting the now bruising fruits on the edge of the display. "That's what I get for trying to eat healthy."

   "Yeah, pizza would never run away," the man said, giving her a friendly wave before walking away, leaving Andie watching him as he rounded the corner. 

   She'd never found herself attracted to blondes before, but in the brief few seconds she'd seen him, Andie had to admit that he was attractive. While she was loading up her groceries, she caught sight of him in the parking lot, getting into a black Mercedes, and he drove slowly past, waving one last time. 

   It put a smile on her face the whole way home, and she carried her bags in all in one trip, her arm ready to fall off as she jumbled around in her purse for her keys. 

   "Goddamnit," she muttered, her hair blowing around in her face as she went to set a bunch of bags down. Before the could touch the porch, another hand closed over hers, and she jerked her head up to see that it was Negan. The side of his mouth was swollen, and he looked irritable.

   "Thanks."

   With her free hand, she was able to extract her house key, and she unlocked the door, stumbling in with Negan right behind her. He followed her through the foyer into the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter, looking around at her things. He and Daryl had moved into the townhouse next to her a few days ago, and she'd yet to have them over.

   "What's with the face?" she asked, kicking off her heels, her feet aching with relief. Using her index finger, she pointed him to the kitchen table, and he dragged the chair out angrily, sitting down so roughly that the chair squealed in protest. 

   "Your asshole ex-fiancee clocked me when I wasn't looking," he grumbled, poking at the damage with a wince. 

   Andie pulled a bag of frozen corn out of her bag, tossing it to him, and he placed it to his face, his eyes shutting briefly. The precinct housed a gym in the basement, and Shane was always there working out when he lived in town. He loved to box, and he'd obviously conned Negan into sparring with him.

   While he sulked at the table, she put her groceries away, stowing a bottle of wine in the fridge before getting her first-aid kit and motioning for him to lower the bag. There was a tiny scrape along the corner of his mouth. Her hip was pressed against his arm, and she dabbed some antiseptic on him, holding her breath when he peered up at her with big eyes. She could see immediately how a someone could get lost in them since they were deep brown, framed by lashes that any woman would give their firstborn for. 

   "Better?" she asked, sounding breathier than she ever had before, stepping back to gain control of herself. 

   "Much."

   "So, how's the new living arrangements working out for you?" Andie sat down across from him as he put the corn back to his cheek, his head cocked to the side.

   "It's nice," he told her, his eyes flitting around, taking everything in. "Very spacious. I can't hear Dixon snoring, which is always a good thing."

   It was with a practiced eye that he scanned her surroundings, a move that she'd done several times herself. He was sussing her out, trying to learn more about her by how she lived, the things that interested her. Only there wasn't much to tell. A few pictures on her mantle, mostly of herself and her father. Some generic seascape paintings that matched the neutral decor, one she hadn't put much thought into. This townhouse was just a place to sleep, it held no real attachment in her eyes, and when he was done, he realized that she was watching him with raised eyebrows.

   "Learn anything?"

   The smile he gave her was unapologetic, and he nodded without elaborating.

   "So, why didn't you head back to Atlanta with Daryl for the weekend?" She was curious that he'd choose to stick around Fairfax when he could've spent a few days in his own...wherever he lived. If she had to guess, it was somewhere in the city, some sort of woman trap, filled with sex toys and silk sheets, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. 

   "Daryl's brother just got out of prison, so he's working to get him settled. Besides," he said, rising and storing the corn in her freezer, "I wanted to see if you'd go with me tomorrow. Glenn called, and he was able to get a clear picture of the watch from Rosita's picture. I figured we could hit up some luxury stores in the city."

   "You got it," Andie smiled, feeling genuinely excited. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a start. "Do you want some dinner? I was just getting ready to make something."

   "Thanks," he said, his smile fading as he edged towards the door, "but I've got plans."

   "Right."

   It was said softly, and she mentally kicked herself for asking. It was Friday night. Of course, he'd be heading out to troll for ass. Why did it irritate her?

   "Eight o'clock?" 

   Andie nodded in the affirmative, walking him to the door, and she watched as he stepped off of the porch, using the little brick walkway to enter Dawn's house, leaning against the door for a few minutes. It wasn't like she was asking him on a date. She just thought it would be nice to eat together. Fridays were usually her time with Sasha, Tyreese, and Abe, but they would still be mourning Rosita, and she didn't want to just sit home alone. Still, there she was, all by herself. 

   Unzipping her dress as she walked, she threw it on the end of the bed, dressing in yoga pants and a t-shirt, resigned to a night flipping through the television when her phone beeped.

 

 

     
    Negan paced around the unfamiliar townhouse, irrationally angry, both at Andie and his reaction to her. It was easier when she looked at him like the man that he was deep down inside. Hell, it was easier for him when he thought of _her_ as the prissy, by the book tightass that she was. 

   Only after spending some time together, she was revealing herself to be smart, flawed, and just as fucked up as he was, and it entranced him like no woman had since Lucille. The fact that she'd been so cuttingly hurt in the past brought out the protective side to him, and when that asshole Shane had asked him to spar, Negan didn't hesitate. The reason he was sporting a fat lip was because the fucker couldn't handle losing. Negan wasn't new to boxing, and Shane had clearly underestimated him, dancing around like a drunken fool until he landed a solid punch to Shane's midsection. 

   From that point, it was 'game on', and it took someone walking into the gym to make Negan lose focus, which was how Shane ended up clocking him in the face. The smirk that he'd worn when Negan's ass hit the ground was enough to get him back to his feet, but Shane held his hands up, signaling that he was done.

   "I think you've had enough," he chuckled, backing towards the punching bag. "Wouldn't wanna scramble your brains, man. Not with such a big case depending on it."

   Negan landed one final blow as he passed the younger man, and it came out of his mouth with surgical precision, hitting Shane where no fists could ever go.

   "No matter what you do, you're never getting her back, man."

   He knew it stung deep, and a slow smile spread across his face as Shane's mouth dropped open. "You had your chance and you fucking blew it."

   It felt like Negan did, too, right then when he'd declined her dinner invitation. He had no plans for the night, and he honestly didn't fucking have a clue as to why he said no. Now, he was pissed at himself for not taking the chance to get to know her, even though a little voice inside him whispered in his head. 

    _Don't bother_ , it told him. _You'd only fuck it up. Stick to what you're good at. Casual fucking and your job._

   While he was pacing around the living room, he heard her door open, and he peeked out of the window, seeing that Andie was heading out. She was wearing a little cotton dress with blue flowers on it, a denim jacket and brown boots, her hair wavy and loose. When the wind blew, lifting up the hem of the dress enough to expose the back of her thighs, it was all he could do to keep from ripping the door off of the hinges and charging out to scoop her up and wrap her legs around his waist.

   What the fuck? Why was this woman getting to him like this? He ran his hand through his hair as she opened her car door, sliding in with her phone in her hand, and he retreated to the center of the room, wishing Shane was there so that he could break his nose. Anything to relieve the pressure that was building up inside of him. 

   "Fuck my life," he muttered, flopping down on the couch and turning on the television. It distracted him for all of two minutes before he grabbed his phone, scrolling through a bunch of numbers, pressing the button without thinking.

   "What's wrong?" the voice on the line said after the third ring, and he sighed in annoyance. She always knew when he was getting into one of his states.

   "Nothing. Can't I just fucking call to say hello? How's the peanut?"

   Carol Peletier was the only other woman in his life who he'd told about Lucille, another damaged human being who knew the kind of man he was and liked him anyway. 

   Negan had gone out as backup years ago, a domestic violence case, and Carol and her daughter Sophia were the unfortunate victims. Her husband Ed had been systematically abusing her since the year they married, ratcheting up the abuse until he finally took them hostage, barricading them in their house for twelve hours until Paul Rovia, the hostage negotiator, was able to talk him into surrendering.

   When he'd gone into the house to investigate, the sight of a battered Carol on the ground and a crying Sophia had sent him over the edge, and he'd unleashed a steady stream of violence on Ed, getting himself in a shit ton of trouble. Negan had been placed on leave until the abusive piece of shit dropped the charges against him. It had gone on his record, but it was totally worth it in his eyes.

   He'd found himself checking in on Carol when Ed was put away, and gradually, she managed to get her life together, with Negan's help. He got her a job as a 911 dispatcher, and Sophia began to thrive. The quiet, scared little girl blossomed into a beautiful, confident preteen, one of the few good things that Negan had done in his life. 

   "She's doing well," Carol told him, the sound of something frying in the background making his stomach grumble, so he padded into the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards as he searched for something to munch on. "She's at the track right now. There's a meet next weekend if you can make it."

   "I wouldn't miss it," he promised her, finally settling on a bag of popcorn. 

   "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or are we going to play twenty questions?"

   One of the things that he loved about Carol was her directness. In a world of fluttery, giggling women, Carol carried the gravity of a hard life in everything she did, and she was one of the only people that he felt like himself with. There was no sexual attraction there, at least on her side, as she was fond of telling him every time he offered to screw her brains out. Just two adults that could have honest conversations.

   "I'm...I don't know. Fuck," he said, massaging his temple as he tossed the popcorn onto the coffee table. "There's this woman I'm working with, and she's driving me fucking nuts."

   "I see." There was definite interest in Carol's tone, and he waited, but she didn't say anything else. 

   "I asked her to dinner when we first met, and she turned me down. Now, she offered to cook for me, and I fucking told her I had plans. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me."

   Carol laughed, one of the nicest sounds in the world, and he sighed dramatically, pinching open the bag and tossing a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

   "As I live and breathe, I never thought I'd see this day come. You like her."

   "Of course I do. She's fucking gorgeous."

   "No, dipshit. You _like_ her."

   "I'm not fucking twelve, Carol."

   "Mentally, you are, and you don't know how to handle it."

   Negan chewed the popcorn, his mouth getting dry, and he swallowed heavily, regretting his words the minute they came out of his mouth.

   "I told her about Lucille."

   He could hear Carol suck in her breath, and he felt the urge to get up, leave the house, and find the nearest available woman to fuck.

   "That's a good thing, Negan. I always tell you that you need to open yourself up. You deserve to be happy."

   "I'd just fuck it up like I do everything else."

   "You won't know unless you try. Any woman that gets to see the real you, if she's worth it, will take you as you are. Will accept you, flaws and all. Are you willing to do the same?"

   Maybe. Maybe for _this_ woman.

 

 

   Andie checked the directions again, her mouth gaping open when she pulled into the parking lot. It was her first time ever going to a country bar, but under the circumstances, she was willing to do it.

   After Negan walked out of her house, declining her dinner invitation, her phone had beeped, and she felt a lingering excitement when she read the message. She'd signed up for the same dating service that Beth had used to meet 'John Householder', and it had been a disappointment at first, to say the least.

  Dick pics, disgusting offers for sex, all of it was useless until she got a message from a guy named Sean, the first one that didn't hit on her with a cheesy line. He'd been on Beth's list, though there was no record of them meeting up. That didn't make a difference to her, though, because whoever was murdering these girls, he was tech savvy. 

   She'd conversed with him over the past week, and he'd finally gotten back to her, wanting to meet up for a drink to see if they had any chemistry. He was in his early thirties, with short, brown hair and green eyes, and he was attractive, maybe too attractive to be on a dating app. If it made her a snob, so be it.

   The Stagecoach was already rocking when she showed her i.d. to get in, and she scanned the crowd, impressed by the surroundings. Stone floors, wood walls, and real saddles that doubled as barstools, it was eye-catching. She was surrounded by men and women in flannel, all rocking real cowboy boots, and she made her way to the bar where a friendly guy with a white towel slung over his shoulder asked her what she wanted.

   "I'll have a Bud Light," she said over the music, her eyes roaming the room until she saw Sean waving to her from the other end of the bar. Nervous excitement bubbled in her stomach as they worked their way towards each other, meeting in the middle of the room.

   "Hey, I'm glad you made it," Sean said, extending his hand. Andie scanned it along with his face and neck, weirdly disappointed that he had no scratches or marks that indicated he'd been marked by Rosita, and she shook it, giving him a smile. 

   "This place is great," she said, looking around. "I've never been here before."

   "I've only been here once before, but my buddy's in the band that's playing tonight," he told her, and she turned to see the guys up on stage, dressed like everyone else. They were playing a mellow song, having attracted quite the following in front of them, dozens of women swaying to the beat. "Do you want to grab a booth?"

   "Sure."

   He led the way to the far corner of the bar away from the music so that they could hear each other, and Andie took the seat that faced the door out of habit.  
  
   "So, you're a cop, huh?" Sean grinned, taking a sip of his beer.

   "I am," she braced herself for an insult or a demonstration of his masculinity. It happened far too often to not expect it. So many guys were threatened by her job, and a lot of them tried to marginalize her when they found out, but he shook his head admiringly.

   "That's so awesome. I don't know how you do it. There's no way I'd be able to go out there and put my life on the line every day."

   "Investments aren't that dangerous?" she teased, nearly losing her smile when his sleeve shifted, revealing a watch. It was silver, like the one in Rosita's picture, but she had no fucking clue what a Piguet watch looked like, so she tried to take a mental picture to compare tomorrow. 

   "God no," Sean replied, putting his beer down, the watch disappearing back under his sleeve. "It's boring unless you're a numbers nerd like myself."

   He told her a little bit about what he did, though she barely followed when he started talking about the stock market, and he questioned her about general cop things, like arrests and ridealongs. She found herself enjoying the conversation, having another beer as they got to know each other. It was easy to forget why she was here, but when he asked her if she'd like to head out to get something to eat, she politely declined.

   "I actually should be heading out," she told him, sliding out of the booth. "I have an early work day tomorrow."

   "On a Saturday? That sucks," he said, clearing a path to the door as she followed behind him. "I'd like to see you again if you're interested. I had a lot of fun getting to know you."

   "Give me a call," she touched his arm lightly before slipping out of the bar, debating with herself on whether or not she'd ever answer another message from him. Sean was a really nice guy, and assuming he wasn't a homicidal killer, he'd probably be worth getting to know.

   So why was her mind on Negan as she drove home?

 

 

   He studied Andie's picture on his phone, caressing himself through his pants. Their first interaction had been positive, indeed. She'd been impressed with him, he mused, feeling himself grow hard as he zoomed in on her lips, imagining them wrapped around his cock. 

   The things he was going to do to her, he thought, unzipping his fly and pulling himself free. There would be no better pleasure, no better release than when she was underneath him, begging for it. He could tell after today that she would be like none of the others.

   Negan would be proud. Or devastated. Either one was fine with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to space out the different narratives. If it's too difficult to decipher, please let me know!


	9. Au Revoir, Policy

   Andie's cell rang, and she reached into her bag, looking at the display and debating whether or not to just send it to voicemail, but she knew if she didn't pick it up, the calls would continue, so she pressed the connect button, holding it to her ear.

   "Hey, dad."

   "Why haven't you returned my calls, poodle?" George Saunders asked over the sound of the ocean, and she glanced quickly at Negan, who was staring straight ahead as if he couldn't hear every word that was being said even though she knew he could. iPhones were the fucking worst for privacy, and she turned her head, facing the window to watch the scenery as he drove them towards Atlanta.

   "I've been a little busy."

   "You sound like you're in the car," her dad observed, his voice gaining interest. "Where are ya headed?"

   "I'm on my way to Atlanta, to check out a few leads."

   "Tell Abe I said hello."

   "Uh, I'm not with him," she said, cursing herself as soon as she said it because there would be follow up questions, and sure enough George Saunders started the inquisition.

   "Alexandra, tell me you're not with that gaping asshole," he barked, and she slumped further into her chair, reverting to childlike defiance.

   "Dad, stop. I can't help that they sent him in to supervise."

   Her father absolutely hated Shane and had done so from the very beginning. Unimpressed with him, he never thought that he was good enough for his little girl, and it pushed Shane to try anything to earn George's favor, to no avail. What it ended up doing was causing a huge rift in their relationship, and she distanced herself from him for a few years until Shane left for Virginia.

   "I'm sorry," he sighed, sounding anything but. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

   "I'm fine," she insisted, giving Negan a furtive glance, and his jaw was set, prompting her to fidget slightly. "Look, can I call you tonight? This really isn't the best time to talk."

   "All right, but don't forget, because I want to discuss something with you, and I need your full attention."

   "I won't."

   Jesus.

   She tossed the phone into her bag, returning her gaze to the picture of the watch that they were currently on a mission to find, and Negan cleared his throat after a few minutes, turning the radio back up slightly.

   Andie twisted her lip to bite the inside of her cheek and turned in her seat to face him, not a comfortable choice. True to form, Negan had a black Camaro, and while it was gorgeous, she wasn't at home in the stylish car. Her own sedan was much more forgiving on her tall frame, and she wondered how he looked so at ease behind the wheel, given that he was such a large specimen.

   "I know you heard," she said in a sour tone, and his lips twitched, his eyes flitting to hers.

   "A gaping asshole?"

   "My dad always thought that Shane was a self-centered prick, and it drove a wedge into our relationship. Besides," she admitted, running her finger over the outline of the watch, "no one wants to hear 'I told you so'."

   This was the most Negan had said to her since they'd met up this morning. He'd barely looked at her when she knocked on his door, herding her to the driveway and rushing her into the car, cranking up the music as soon as they got onto the road. It unnerved her slightly, since he was always talking her ear off, but she didn't attempt to decipher his mood, assuming that his plans the night before hadn't gone the way he hoped, fluffing it off.

   "Well, unless Shane was a physical danger, your dad probably should've kept his opinion to himself."

   Andie's mouth dropped open in surprise, but Negan didn't see, too busy checking the rearview mirror as he switched lanes, getting into the middle one as the traffic started to pick up.

   "We ended up not speaking for two years," she said, and Negan nodded understandingly.

   "Lucille's parents fucking hated me, and I think it drove her to me faster, not that she didn't love me. But it was a way to stick it to her mom, who made sure that she knew I'd never be good enough in their eyes."

   Negan slammed on the brakes, holding his arm out in front of her when the car in front of them slowed down suddenly, and she bounced off of his wrist, bracing herself against him.

   It scared the shit out of her, and Negan whipped around the car, flipping the driver off with a few muttered expletives for good measure.

   "Are you okay?"

   "I'm fine," Andie replied, smoothing out the picture that had been balled up in her hand when she reacted. It was enough to get her pulse racing, and she took a few cleansing breaths, her eyes going to his hand as he gripped the gear shift. He had long, tapered fingers, with minimal hair. The skin was creamy, and his nails were perfectly trimmed. Why she focused on them, she couldn't say, but when she finally glanced up, the Atlanta skyline was looming over them, so she put the picture back in the file, retrieving her phone and opening the MeetCute app.

   She hadn't planned on showing Negan a picture of Sean, but the night before after meeting him, she'd scrolled through his profile, and found a picture where he was wearing the same silver watch from the bar, and she wanted Negan's opinion, since he was apparently a fine watch freak.

   With the phone sitting upside down on her lap, she waited until he parked the car outside of their first stop, Cachet Fine Jewelry, a few miles away from the city.

   As Negan went to exit, she tapped him on the arm, holding out the phone, and he squinted as he looked at the photo.

   "Does this look like the same watch?" she asked, handing him her cell. He studied it briefly before zooming back out, further than she'd had it, a frown passing over his face until he handed it back to her with a shake of his head. He got out without a word, slamming the door, and she shoved the phone back in her purse, disappointed both in his attitude and his reaction.

   Cache Fine Jewelry was built to resemble a Tuscan villa, with stucco walls on the outside and red clay roof tiles, and Negan held the door open for her, his hand lightly touching the small of her back to guide her inside. If it was anyone else, she probably would've told him to back the fuck off, but Andie let it slide, unsure why at the surface.

   The inside was as stylish as the outside, with rows of glass cases filled expensive rings, watches, and necklaces. Presiding over the wares was a pretty young woman with golden hair, wearing a chic silk dress and adorned with plenty of jewels of her own. Her cheeks pinked up as they approached, and Negan leaned casually in front of her over the glass, her chest heaving as Andie rolled her eyes behind them.

   "Well, good mornin'," he drawled, giving her a smoldering grin, and she fumbled with the edge of the case, barely noticing Andie.

   "Good morning, sir," she chirped as a fine blush appeared on her chest, making its way up her neck. No wonder he was so goddamned cocky, if every woman he encountered had this sort of reaction to him. "How may I help you?"

   Andie stepped to the right, catching the girl's attention, showing her badge, and Negan produced his as well, earning even more of a reaction if that was possible.

   "We actually need to speak to the owner or manager. Official police business," he told her with a wink, prompting Andie to poke him in the back.

   "Um, let me just go and get him," she stammered, heading towards the back of the store, leaving them alone together.

   "What the fuck?" Andie snapped as he grinned at her, completely unbothered. "Can't you act professionally?"

   "I _am_ a professional," he replied, all traces of humor fading from his face, leaving only anger and bitterness. "I was just having some fun."

   "Well, get laid on your own time," she said dismissively, turning her back on him and browsing through a collection of watches in the next case over. "We're here to find answers, and maybe put a dent in this goddamned case."

   The blonde returned, followed by an impossibly good-looking man, one that was nearer to her dad's age than hers, but, damn. Tall, with salt-and-pepper hair, he had gray eyes and lightly tanned skin, and unlike Negan, his eyes were only on her.

   "Hello, I am Phillippe," he said with a light accent, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles before shaking Negan's, and Andie had to swallow hard so that she didn't giggle. "Please, follow me to my office so that we may chat. Amber, keep an eye on the front."

   "Yes, sir," she breathed, her eyes moving between Negan and Phillippe as if she wasn't sure who she should be panting after. Andie wasn't, either.

   Negan, on the other hand, had straightened up immediately and was following behind Phillippe with extra swagger, his shoulders twisting slightly, with Andie hot on his heels.

   "Have a seat," Phillippe gestured to the plush leather chairs in his office, one that was filled with leather books and a fancy painting of himself.

   Negan introduced himself and then Andie, and again, they flashed their badges before Andie set the photo of the suspect's arm on his desk, sliding it towards him. "Do you recognize this watch, Mr. LeClair?" she asked, glancing quickly at the brass nameplate on his desk.

   Phillippe pulled a magnifying glass from his top drawer, holding it over the image and responding almost immediately, giving her a gentle smile that made her feel giddy.

   "Ah, yes, Miss Saunders. That is a very special watch indeed. A Piguet Royal Oak. It retails for just over four hundred thousand."

   Andie nearly fell off of her chair, recovering quickly while Negan just nodded in agreement.

   "And have you sold any of these watches by chance?"

   "I have. May I ask why?"

   "We're currently investigating a homicide," Negan explained, without going into too much detail. "We believe the perpetrator was wearing this exact timepiece." He tapped on the picture. "It would help if we could know who has purchased one within the past few month. It appears to be the latest model, which has only been out for around six months or so."

   Philippe appeared delighted, and he gave Negan an approving nod.

   "The gentleman knows his watches."

   Even Negan appeared to be charmed by the man, and his face broke out into a wide smile.

   "It's an interest of mine."

   "If you'll pardon me for a moment, I'll retrieve my sales log and see if we can't determine who's purchased one. I believe there are three sales made since we received it in stock."

   He glided out of the room smoothly, with Andie watching him the entire way, entranced for some reason by the man, her eyes only meeting Negan's when the door shut.

   "Jesus Christ," he muttered, glaring at her as her chest started to burn in embarrassment. "Maybe I'm not the only one who needs to keep it in their goddamned pants."

   "What?" she said defensively, crossing her legs.

   "I didn't know you had a thing for older men," he said, trying not to smirk. She didn't, either.

   Phillippe returned a moment later with a dark blue ledger book that was trimmed in gold. "We use a computer system," he informed them, "but for the larger purchases, I also keep a manual record as well so that I can maintain contact with our preferred customers. Let's see," he demurred, running his index finger down a page that was filled with precise letters.

   "One of the gentlemen bought the watch in December, but he lives in Switzerland. Another was purchased in January, a local 'businessman'," he said, his mouth twisting up. "I believe you might know him, detectives. Armand Scarpetti."

   Armand Scarpetti was a businessman the same way Benedict Arnold was a patriot. He was a longtime mobster, and always on the radar with both local and federal law enforcement. His face was known far and wide, so there was probably no way that he was the guy they were looking for, but Andie wrote down his information just the same.

   "The other transaction was cash," Phillippe frowned, looking up at the both of them. "I'm afraid I don't have any information about the buyer. It looks like he or she refused the warranty. This one was sold in November, just days after we put it on display."

   Fuck.

   "Do you think we could have a look at your security footage?" Negan asked, sounding like this wasn't a huge disappointment. Since it was a high-end store, there were cameras everywhere.

   "I'll contact our security company and have them make copies of the footage. They normally keep our surveillance for a year, so I can send them the date of the sale and have them pull all of the tapes for that day. Who shall I contact?"

   Andie fished a card out of her purse, Phillipe's fingers brushing hers as he took it from her, tucking it into the ledger.

   "It may take a few days for them to send it over, but I will be in contact," he smiled at her as Negan rose to his feet, shaking the other man's hand, causing Phillipe to wince slightly.

   Andie did the same before he showed them out, and they went back to the car in silence. In fact, Negan didn't speak again until they went to the second store.

   The fine people at Solomon Brother's Fine Jewelry hadn't sold any of the watches, and neither had the store in Buckhead. The last store on their route had sold one of them, but to an elderly gentleman, and Andie received his contact information, intending to call him on Monday.

   By the time they were done, it was after five, and Negan grudgingly asked her if she wanted to eat before they headed back to Fairfax. Distracted by a message from Sean, she agreed, and Negan's phone rang, connecting through his car. Daryl's number came up, and he answered it as she sent Sean a message that she was out of town.

   "Hey, asshole," Negan said, sounding pissy as shouts and clatters came blaring through the speaker system.

   "Ya still in town?" Daryl asked over the dull roar, shouting for someone to shut the hell up.

   "Yeah."

   "Ya wanna meet us at the Tavern? We're celebratin' Merle, and everyone's askin' after ya."

   Negan glanced over at her, and Andie shrugged, curious to see what his friends were like.

   "We'll head over. Just save us a booth so we can eat."

   He disconnected the call, changing lanes so they could get on the freeway again, and Andie stowed her phone away, staring out the window, waiting for Negan to say something, but he never spoke to her, not even when they pulled into a pothole filled parking lot outside of a dive bar called the Northside Tavern.

   It had seen better days, but the lot was full of cars, and raucous music could be heard as soon as she stepped out. Negan waved his hand for her to follow, holding the rickety wood door open for her to enter. Dimly lit, it was her kind of place, with a gleaming bar, shelves loaded down with liquor, and the smell of fried food that drowned out almost everything else.

   As soon as they walked a few paces, a dark-haired girl came flying at them, tackling Negan as she jumped out of the way to avoid being knocked over.

   "Where the fuck have you been?" she yelled, kissing him on the cheek as he laughed, lifting her off of her feet and then setting her down. "I thought you died or some shit."

   "I ain't dyin' until I'm good and ready to."

   Andie stood there awkwardly as the girl mussed up his hair, a weird twinge of jealousy washing over her, and she adjusted the strap on her purse until Negan turned the girl around to face her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

   "Tara, this is Andie. She's one of the detectives in Fairfax that Daryl and I are working with. Andie, meet Tara. She owns this fucking dive."

   Tara stuck out her hand, shaking Andie's securely as she smiled brightly.

   "Nice to meet ya," she said warmly, poking Negan in the ribs. "I hope this asshole hasn't been too much to handle."

   "Not at all," Andie told her, still trying to decipher what kind of relationship the two had. Friends? Lovers?

   Her cop face needed some work, because Tara leaned in, whispering in her ear so that Negan couldn't hear.

   "I'm gay, don't worry."

   "I-" she stuttered, at a loss for words, but Tara linked her arm with Andie's, leading her to an open booth along the back of the bar and handing her a menu. Negan made his way behind her, stopping and chatting with several patrons, and Andie ordered a beer, Tara setting off to fetch it for her.

   She was sipping on the drink when Negan finally joined her, flopping into the booth across from her as he called out to some guy, telling him that they'd play darts later. His mood seemed to have improved mightily, and he was smiling like a butcher's dog. It made him look even more attractive, and Andie started to wonder what the hell was wrong with her. Was she ovulating or something? Why were all these men stirring up something in her?

   Shaking her head, she resumed looking at the menu, only lifting her head when Tara returned setting a glass of liquor in front of Negan and pulling out an order pad.

   "What can I get you?" she asked primly, but there was a hint of a smile on her face.

   "I'll have a burger and the fried pickles," she said, setting the menu behind the condiments.

   "Good call," Tara told her, inclining her head towards Negan. "The usual?"

   "Yes, ma'am."

   Tara disappeared, leaving the two of them alone, as alone as they could be in a crowded bar. Negan opened his mouth to say something, but she slid from her seat as he watched her.

   "Restroom?"

   "Over there," he pointed behind her, and she hustled away from him, dipping into the unisex bathroom, setting her purse on the sink and perching on the toilet. She needed to get a fucking grip on herself. There was a reason she didn't date cops, and she needed to keep reminding herself of that. Negan wasn't only a cop, he was a world-class manwhore to boot.

   Andie wasn't opposed to casual sex, since she did the deed occasionally with Jimmy, but something told her that ending up in Negan's bed would be catastrophic for her, especially since they were working so closely together for now. Never mind the fact that her ex-fiancee was in town, it had all the makings of an explosive situation.

   Once she took about twenty deep breaths, she stood up, checking her reflection in the mirror, fanning her pink cheeks and running her brush through her hair, adding a bit of gloss since her lips were dry. At the last second, she remembered that she needed to call her dad.

   When she returned to the table, the food was already waiting, and she slammed her purse down on the seat, sitting down roughly.

   "What the fuck happened between the bathroom and here?" Negan asked around a bite of his sandwich, and she glared at the table, ready to punch someone.

   "My goddamned dad just told me that he's getting married."

   "...and that's a bad thing?"

   "It is when the woman is younger than me, and he's known her for two months, for fuck's sake."

   Negan made a hissing sound, and she dug into her burger, deciding to eat her feelings instead of spewing them all over him. Her father hadn't settled down with anyone since her mom died, never seeing the same woman for more than two weeks, and now he's getting married? To a child?

   "Maybe he loves her," Negan said, not withering under Andie's angry gaze. "You never know. It happens."

   "Oh, I'm sure," she sniped, setting her burger down. "Who wouldn't fall for a twenty-five-year-old waitress in Mexico? I mean, what the fuck? Now he wants me to fly down there in May for the wedding."

   Their conversation ended when a bald guy came strutting up with Daryl following closely behind, leering at Andie as he stuck his hips out, and she noticed Negan giving him a cold look.

   "Oh, little brother," the man drawled, winking at her. " _Tell_ me that she's my welcome home present."

   "Merle, shut the fuck up," Daryl growled, edging him out of the way. "Sorry," he muttered to her as her eyebrow rose. "He's an asshole."

   " _I'm_ sorry," Merle said sarcastically, placing his hand over his heart as Negan's hands curled into fists. "I didn't realize that you had the hots for this little filly. My mistake. I'm Daryl's older, better-looking brother."

   Andie stood up, shaking his hand before twisting it behind his back and bending him down over the table, just missing her burger with his head.

   "Nice to meet you, Merle. I'm Andie," she told him as Daryl burst out laughing, slapping his hand on his thigh as Negan looked on in admiration. "I'm afraid I might be a little more woman than you can handle, but I'll keep you in mind for the future."

   She let him go, and he shot up as she gave him a wink. There was a fraught moment when she thought he might slug her, but after a second, he howled in amusement, bowing to her as he shook the feeling back into his arm.

   "You better lock this one down," he told Daryl, who rolled his eyes. "She's a fucking keeper."

   "Sorry," he muttered again as Merle lurched away, sitting at a nearby table with a guy who could've been an extra on Sons of Anarchy. "He's wasted."

   "I can handle myself," she assured him, taking her seat and sliding all of the ways in so that Daryl could join them. While they finished their food, Negan told him about their find, and Daryl expressed the same frustration and excitement that they had.

   "Will you be all right if I go play a game of darts?" Negan asked her, and she waved him away as she started on another beer, chatting with Daryl until he, too, wandered off, only he went to check on his brother to make sure he was still in one piece.

   After sitting by herself for a while, Andie left the booth, going around the side of the bar to where the pool tables and dartboards were, and Negan was surrounded by both men and women, hitting the bullseye as she watched. One of the women, in particular, kept trying to get his attention, but he ignored her, concentrating on the guy he was playing, and judging by the scoreboard, it was a close game, not that Andie knew anything about darts.

   A fresh beer appeared in front of her face, and she turned to see Tara, who clicked her tongue at her before heading back to the bar. Since she didn't know anyone, she sat on one of the barstools to watch, setting her drink on the shelf that lined the entire wall. Negan's feet were planted, and every time he made a throw, the muscles in his arms rippled, sending that warm feeling down through her core, making her fidget.

   He finally caught sight of her, giving her a sexy smile, and she gave him a demure one in response, her heart pattering when he excused himself to check on her as the flirty girl watched forlornly.

   "You ready to go?" he asked, standing over her, smelling of alcohol.

   "I'm good."

   "One more game," he promised her, backing away as the guy told him to hurry the fuck up and take his shot. When he landed another bullseye, the girl that kept trying to get his attention let out a loud squeal.

   "Don't worry about her," a voice said by her ear, and she nearly toppled off of the barstool, making Tara guffaw. "She's just a groupie."

   "He has groupies?" Andie said, her eyes widening as she chugged her beer, not sure that she liked that.

   "I've known him for years," she pointed out, sitting down next to her as she cracked open a beer of her own, "and he's never once brought a woman here."

   "Oh, we're just working together," she argued, tearing her eyes away from the girl to see Tara looking at her in amusement.

   "Honey, there is something going on between you two, and I'm all here for it. Despite what you've heard, he's a great guy, and he needs a great girl to tell him so. He deserves to have a happy ending."

   "Hey, asshole," Tara shouted, getting everyone's attention. "If you keep ignoring this fine-ass woman, I might just make a play for her myself."

   Half the room hooted as Tara placed a sloppy kiss on Andie's cheek, and she laughed along with them, thinking that she liked Tara very much. Negan wagged his finger at her warningly, and Andie gave him a challenging smirk before hopping down and heading back to the bathroom. She was tipsy, grinning like a moron when she stepped out, smacking directly into Negan's chest.

   He walked her back into the bathroom as she stared up at him, running into the wall, her body tingling when he placed his hands on either side of her head, his face inches from hers.

   Both of them were panting, drunk and leering at each other, and Andie held her breath when he brought his lips to hers, feeling a spark that threatened to send her up in flames.

   Oh, there was definitely something there, and it wasn't good.


	10. Work It Out

   Andie let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and it was music to Negan's ears, prompting a primal urge to rut himself against her as he drove his tongue further into her mouth, the feeling of warm silk driving him crazy. Weeks of fantasizing of having her in this exact same position was frying his brain, even as Tara's words floated through his head.

   "This girl likes you," she'd told him as Andie disappeared to the bathroom, pulling him away from the dart game. "Even if she can't admit it to herself."

   It spurred him to follow behind her, the light in her eyes when he'd backed her into the small room unleashing a caveman instinct to mark her as his, to gnash his teeth against the smooth skin of her neck, but he restrained himself, just barely. 

   She tasted like beer and honey, intoxicating him as his chest pressed against hers, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts, his heart soaring when her hand clamped around the back of his neck to pull him closer. He hadn't felt this way since the first time he'd kissed Lucille, intermittent guilt washing over him as he broke contact, staring down at her, noting that her pupils were dilated, the skin around her lips mottled red from his stubble. He wanted to take a picture of it and send it to old French guys and young fuckwits on a dating app to show them that only _he_ could make her look and feel so good.

   "Hey, drunk people!" Tara pounded on the door, and Negan backed up as Andie ran her hands down her face and neck, breathing deeply. "I called you a cab, so get the hell out of the bathroom."

   Negan knew this was a delicate situation, and at any moment, Andie could tell him to fuck off, reverting to her 'no cops' stance, so he opened the door, letting her slip out in front of him, affixing an easy smile on his face. Cautiously, he placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her back to the booth to grab their jackets, passing Tara along the way, who wisely kept her mouth shut.

   The crowd was three sheets to the wind, so the sight of two people leaving the bathroom together wasn't noticed or commented on, and he took the lead, exiting through the front door to a waiting cab. Holding the door open, Andie slid in, moving to the other side, and Negan gave the driver his address, his thigh pressed up against hers. All he wanted was to get her to his home, away from prying eyes to continue what they started.

   As they rode in the dark silence, her hand slid up his leg, massaging the muscle, and he turned slightly to see her staring straight ahead with no expression. It made his dick throb, the desire ripping through the cab while the driver remained otherwise ignorant.

   Home was a repurposed factory outside of Atlanta, and as the cab parked in front of the entrance, Negan handed the man a fifty dollar bill, coming around the back of the car to open the door, taking Andie's hand as she looked around. The large, gray building still had smokestacks, and the factory floor had been partitioned off into apartments, each with a loft, and Negan lived in the first one.

   The cab drove off, bathing them in red light from its brakes, and Negan had just opened the front door when he was roughly turned around, Andie pinning him against the frame like he'd done to her at the bar. Before she could kiss him, he bent down and hooked his hands behind her knees, scooping her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist, exactly like he'd thought about the night before when he caught sight of the back of her thighs.

   It was a struggle to unlock his door since one hand was gripping her ass, and she bit down hard on his earlobe, making him growl. If he wasn't inside her soon, he wouldn't be responsible for what he did, the door slamming behind him as he flipped on the light, his stomach on fire when Andie licked his neck, her legs locking him in a vise grip. 

   Practically sprinting up the steps to his bed, he fell on top of her, the little grunt that she let out only fanning the licking heat that was making his cock jump, a pain that only one thing could cure. But she had Negan on his back before he could blink, straddling his waist as she eased out of her jacket, the buttons of her blouse straining with the movement. Fuck, he wanted her like nothing else. Her breasts, her neck, even her heart. He had to have it.

   "What am I working with here?" she asked in a gravelly voice, placing her palms flat against his chest, wiggling her hips on his pelvis, poking her tongue out to sweep it across her lips.   
Impatiently, he sat up, and she helped him out of his leather jacket, allowing him to kiss her roughly, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. When he'd had enough of that, he moved down her neck, his fingers unbuttoning her shirt so that he could have access to her breasts, grazing her nipple with his teeth through the little lace bra that she was wearing, leaving a wet spot. The other received the same treatment, gifting him with breathy pants, each of them trying to dictate what was happening. 

   "Let me up," he barked at her, making her blink, and she swung her leg over his waist, kneeling on the bed as he stood up, turning away from her to get his bearings. How many times had he brought women here? Too many to count. None of the recent ones took any initiative, relying on him to set the pace. But Andie wasn't. She was trying to get the upper hand, and it was throwing him off for some reason. 

   He had to get the control back, his emotions ping-ponging between wanting to lay her down and slowly enter her, and his muscle memory longing to just fuck her, to get whatever this was out of his system so that he could be himself again, have no lingering attachment to this woman.

   Removing his shirt, Negan undid his belt, flicking the button of his jeans open before he turned around, intending to set the pace, but she was already completely nude, having positioned herself right behind him, giving him the first unobstructed view of her body. Creamy thighs, a smattering of hair between her legs, and rosy pink nipples, all of it a banquet for him to feast on, his mouth watering in anticipation. She was going to be the death of him, he knew it deep in his soul. 

   Andie ran her nails over his chest, dragging them down his stomach, using enough pressure to leave scratch marks, an intense look taking over her face when she reached the waistband of his pants. Slowly, she eased them off of his hips, catching his briefs with her thumbs and letting the material drop, allowing his cock to spring free right in front of her face.

   He could feel her breath across his skin, and he took the back of her head, balling up her hair as a wicked smile met his. 

   With a feather light touch, she circled her right hand around the base, running the head across her lips, her tongue flicking over the slit, sending pure waves of pleasure straight up his spine, and he bucked his hips, wanting the heat of her mouth to surround him fully. 

   "Fuck," he muttered as she allowed him to breach her throat, the vibrations from her vocal chords sending him into a frenzy as he thrust his hips in and out, spurred on when she moved one hand to his ass to knead the muscle, and he reared back after a few thrusts, knowing he was going to come too soon if he kept pushing it. 

   Her eyes were glittering with lust, her lips shiny with effort, and Andie leaned back on her elbows as he kicked off his shoes, his pants pooling around his ankles, watching her with barely opened eyes as she stuck one hand into her purse, coming out with a condom that she ripped open with her teeth. 

   "Not yet."

   She halted her movements as he knelt down between her legs, using his fingertips to spread her thighs, a sense of pride and triumph at the slickness that coated them. The sweet, musky smell was enough to drive him face first into her folds, licking and sucking as she moaned his name, dropping onto her back, sending his ego to new, dizzying heights. Every time his tongue brushed her nub, it sent a spasm through her center, and he was rewarded with a tug to his scalp. 

   When she started to writhe, grinding herself against his face, he dug his fingers into her hips, slipping two fingers inside, finding the spongy skin and making little circular motions, wanting her to scream, only for him. She did, nearly suffocating him as she spasmed around his head, the blood pulsating in his ears.

   Andie went still, and he surfaced, the smirk of a job well done, licking his way up her stomach to remove the condom from her hand, rolling it down his shaft one-handed as she lined herself up underneath him, kissing him even though his face was slippery with her lubrication.

   The instant he pushed his way into her tight core, her eyelids fluttered open with a gasp, and he had to take a mental picture of the fine blush of her cheeks, the swollen lips that moaned his name, the sheen that coated her chest. He could fuck her all night if he hadn't had so goddamned much to drink, and he pistoned in and out of her, the ache in his balls driving him, and when she clenched her walls around him rhythmically, he was gone. Done.

   The orgasm rocked him from head to toe, a blinding white light exploding across his tightly shut eyes, bowing himself over her body, breathing into her neck, even as the aftershocks made him thrust his hips automatically. 

   He was out of energy, willing to sleep still sheathed inside of her, but he rolled off when she pressed her hands to his chest to give him a nudge, and they lay side by side, each trying to catch their breath. Coming down from his high, he was able to think clearly again, and he knew that this wasn't going to be enough. Whatever he thought he was getting out of his system, he was gravely fucking mistaken.

 

     
   Andie looked blindly out of the window of the car, hating herself for several reasons. The driver had the radio playing softly, and she was completely zoned out, the trip back to Fairfax giving her ample time to think. 

   Once Negan had fallen asleep, she'd snuck out of his bed, gathering up her clothes and purse and sneaking downstairs to call for an Uber to pick her up. Since she couldn't remember his address, she'd had to Google it, and she'd listened to his soft snores as she put her clothes back on, terrified that he'd wake up before she could leave. Christ, they hadn't exchanged two words after.

   As soon as she'd pushed him off of her, she'd started to panic, her rule broken and there was nowhere for her to hide. So she'd run like a coward, not even leaving him a note. Instead, she'd carried her shoes out as she shut the door softly behind her, putting them on outside the building, sitting on the driveway as she breathed in the night air, trying to clear her head and her nose to get his smell out of it. 

   Negan was even more beautiful naked than he was fully clothed, the look on his face when she'd had him in her mouth almost too painful to look at. And it wasn't just that. It was the way he'd kissed her at the bar, making her dead heart lurch to life again, a longing to feel his lips, his hands on her for the rest of her days. She hadn't felt that way in years, and it scared her more than any serial killer that was on the loose. 

   It couldn't work. It wouldn't work. Negan was a man that was always on the lookout for the bigger, better deal, no matter what his friend Tara said. His track record proved that. Hell, he'd told her himself that he couldn't even stay faithful to his wife, and he'd loved her. If she wasn't enough for Shane, she sure as shit wasn't going to keep this guy fulfilled. 

   Beyond that was the shame that she'd cut and run like a scared rabbit, fleeing danger. George Saunders didn't raise a coward, yet here she was, in a stranger's car, speeding away from Atlanta like she'd been ordered out of town by sunrise. 

   "We're here, ma'am," the guy said a half-hour later, jolting her from her stupor in his backseat. Locking eyes with him in his rearview mirror, she fumbled around in her purse for a tip, passing it to him as she opened the door, her thighs throbbing from being spread wide. He was nice enough to wait until she was safely inside, and she locked the door behind her, tossing her bag on the kitchen counter and taking her phone with her up to her room. 

   In the dark, she stripped off her clothes, still surrounded by Negan's scent, walking naked to the bathroom to shower to clean herself, thinking naively that it would wash away everything, including her feelings. But she couldn't do it, and she slipped her nightgown over her head, crawling into her expensive bed, curling up in the middle as she clutched her pillow, thinking that she'd hide here until she figured out what she would say to Negan on Monday. She'd have to avoid him until then.

 

 

   He stood over her, his hands twitching as he thought about strangling her in her sleep. She smelled of sex and leather, lime and alcohol, the same way Mother used to, and he knew that she'd fucked Negan, falling under his spell. Just like Mother. 

   Negan took Mother away from him, and he was taking Andie, too. He couldn't let that happen. 

   Andie sighed in her sleep, rolling onto her back, and he was awash in the familiar musk, stirring up both rage and arousal. Quietly, he crept closer, his hands ready to throttle her neck, but he couldn't do it. Not yet. 

   With one finger, he traced the outline of her lips, then the curve of her jaw, daring to lightly rub her nipple, getting hard when it started to poke through the fine material. She moaned quietly, and he brushed his hand over his erection, wanting to push things even further, but a name fell from her lips, and it was 'Negan'. 

   He backed away, disappearing through the door, confused and muddled. He wanted to be Negan, to bathe in his blood and make everything in Negan's life his. Maybe he should adjust his priorities, change his plans, he thought as he carefully opened the unlatched window in the living room, going out the exact way he came, edging his way through the yard between Andie's townhouse and her neighbors, back to where his car was parked on the street behind hers.

   Checking his fancy silver watch, he saw that it was after midnight, and he hummed to himself. It was his birthday, and he knew what present to get for himself, heading back to his home. Back to Atlanta.

  



	11. Be Kind, Rewind

   "...I miss you, too. I miss that sweet ass of yours."

   Andie entered the conference room, rolling her eyes behind Shane's back as he turned, giving her a guilty look when he hugged the phone closer to his ear. "I'll call you back."

   She set her bag down, pulling out the chair on the opposite side of the table as Shane took the seat next to her, storing his phone in his pocket.

   "Sorry," he muttered, and she gave him a sidelong glance.

   "For what? Having the same tired lines that you used to use on me? Or for thinking that it would bother me all these years later?"

   "God, you've gotten hard," he complained, slumping back in his chair.

   "Shane, I'm happy for you," Andie flipped on her laptop, checking her email as she shifted in her seat. "I told you that already. We're ancient history."

   "If you say so."

   She wasn't going to get sucked into a pointless fight with him, not after the weekend she'd had. Negan never returned from Atlanta, not that she'd spent all day Sunday listening for his Camaro or anything. He'd never even texted her to make sure that she made it home all right, not that it mattered. Nope, it was just a release of the sexual tension that had built between them, nothing more and nothing less.

   So what if she had a dream about him on Saturday night when she got home? It was normal and expected after the great sex, even though there was no fornication in the dream, just Negan tenderly stroking her face in the mundane confines of her townhouse as she rested her head on his lap. They were on the couch, watching a movie, and she was sublimely happy just to be with him.

   The feeling lasted throughout the day as she puttered around her house, cleaning and doing her chores that she usually had little time for when she was working. Until he didn't show up, and neither did Daryl.

   "Blue."

   She'd been staring off into space, and Shane snapped his fingers to get her attention. Rick was carrying a manila envelope, and he set it on the table in front of her since it was addressed to her.

   "This just arrived by courier," Rick said, sitting on the edge of the table, the two men effectively surrounding her. "And Abe is taking a leave of absence, given what's going on."

   Andie nodded her head since she'd already spoken to her partner the day before. He was still struggling with Rosita's death, and it tainted his involvement with the case. Abe had asked if she was disappointed in him, and she hurriedly assured him that she wasn't, that he needed to take some time to mourn. With Daryl and Negan to help out, and even Shane, they had it covered.

   Using her nail to open the envelope, she turned it upside down, a flicker of excitement when a DVD came sliding out into her palm along with a typed note from Neilson Security that the tapes of November the second were enclosed, as per Phillipe LeClair's wishes.

   She quickly updated Rick and Shane about their jewelry store trip as she inserted the DVD into her computer drive, the two of them crowding around as the footage began to play. So engrossed in the images, she didn't feel Shane's hand on her shoulder, nor did she hear Negan and Daryl enter until the sound of someone clearing their throat made all of their heads lift at the same time.

   Negan was glaring between Andie and Shane, his eyes flitting to Shane's arm, and Andie realized what he was doing, and she knocked it off of her body, pausing the tape. Daryl slunk over to the table, avoiding her gaze as Negan planted himself in the doorway.

   "Where have you been?" she snapped, glancing at the clock. "It's after ten."

   "I don't report to you, detective. We had another case that we were working on," he said coldly, slamming his shit on the table. "It didn't look like you needed us, anyway."

   "What case?"

   "Can I see ya outside?" Daryl motioned for the door, and Andie shut her laptop, locking it so that Shane and Rick couldn't watch the tape without her, stepping around Negan, who refused to give any ground. Her arm brushed against his, sending a wave of heat down the appendage, and she turned to the right, leaning against the wall, trying to fight the urge to slap him. Or kiss him. She wasn't sure which way she was leaning at the moment.

   Daryl backed himself next to her, looking down At the floor.

   "I ain't trying to pry," he said awkwardly, rushing his words. "But whatever happened with the two of you put him in a real foul mood. That ain't why I called you out here, though."

   "Okay."

   "We got called to a scene early Sunday morning."

   "Another Heartbreaker?" she asked, on alert, but he shook his head.

   "Nah, it was a strangulation case, but it was a male prostitute," he said, giving her a quick shrug. "The only reason they called us out was because the pro looked exactly like Negan, only about ten years younger. Was wearin' a leather jacket and everything."

   "That's disturbing."

   "Whoever killed em' did it while they were screwing," he said, his cheeks turning pink. "The other guys think it was sex play gone wrong, but Negan ain't convinced. He feels like it was a message to him or somethin'."

   "A message?"

   Daryl looked as weirded out as she felt, and he double checked to make sure that no one was listening to them, but everyone else was in the conference room.

   "He thinks whoever did it knows him. Maybe someone that he arrested."

   "Saunders, let's go."

   Rick sounded impatient in the other room, and Andie patted Daryl's shoulder, heading back inside to a chilly reception from everyone. Negan was sitting as far away from the others as he could, and he refused to acknowledge her, so she sat back in her seat, opening her laptop again and punching in her password as Daryl stood behind her.

   "So, we got the footage from Cache," she said, bringing him up to speed. "We've only watched about the first hour or so, and it's been boring, to say the least."

   It garnered Negan's attention, and he grudgingly got up, coming around to stand behind Shane as she pressed play. The only people who'd come into the store so far were women, and she settled back, watching a young woman, not Amber, take a few rings out of one of the cases to show a prospective buyer, an elderly woman.

   It was just after noon when they finally got a look at a male buyer, and Andie's heart started to race as a tall man wearing a baseball cap and a brown leather bomber jacket came walking into the store, heading straight for one of the cases. The saleswoman joined him a few seconds later, opening the case as he pointed to one of the pieces.

   "Come on, motherfucker," she muttered, leaning closer to the screen as the camera angle switched to behind the sales counter, but all they could see was the bottom of his face, the lip of his cap covering his eyes and nose. The scene continued as the man tried on the watch, angling his wrist several ways before nodding slightly, handing it back to the girl.

   Slowly, she walked over to the register, typing in numbers as he pulled out his wallet, producing a piece of paper and handing it to her. All the while, he kept his head down, and she disappeared into Phillipe's office, returning with the ledger, signing the back.

   "You've got to be kidding me," Shane said as the transaction was completed, and the salesgirl put the watch into a case, handing it to the man who threw a few bills down on the glass top, turning and exiting the store, still with no great view of his face.

   Andie reversed the tape, going back to when he entered, studying everything from his stance to his hands, feeling an odd sense of deja vu, though she couldn't quite pin down why. He was definitely on the younger side of forty, but other than the shape of his jaw, they had nothing, at least on the surface.

   "Get this over to the lab," Rick said, standing and stretching. "Maybe Glenn can break this down and find us something usable."

   "I'll go," Negan and Shane said at the same time as she pulled the tape back out, tucking it in the envelope, and she kept her head down as she heard Rick sigh loudly.

   "Saunders, take who you want."

   She looked up to see Rick staring at her, and she had the feeling that he knew exactly what was going on. It was mortifying for her to have her boss fully aware of her personal life, and she jerked her thumb at Daryl, stalking from the room with several pairs of eyes burning holes in her back.

   Daryl smirked as he got into the passenger's seat, hanging on for dear life as she barreled out of the parking lot, tossing the envelope into his lap.

   "Ain't no way to trace that cashier's check," he said conversationally as she gripped the wheel. "The bank won't be able to tell us anything."

   "I know," she replied, her voice heavy. "It fucking feels like every step forward takes us three back."

   "We're gonna catch a break. We have to."

   "You know as well as I do that this may never get solved," she told him, thinking absently about how many unsolved cases that were floating around. "This guy is so fucking smart."

   "He'll screw up," Daryl felt completely confident, tapping the envelope against his thigh. "He's feeling confident, rachetin' up his kills, and he'll make a mistake. I can feel it."

   "I hope you're right, I really do."

   The lab was deserted when they arrived, and Andie sat down, staring at the wall as Daryl stalked around, waiting for Glenn who was just getting back from lunch. He came in with a cup, sucking from the straw loudly, smiling at Andie as she looked at him without seeing him. So many thoughts were clogging up her brain that she had to do something to calm the storm inside her.

   Glenn was excited as she was when she told him about the tape, and he popped it in, virtually ignoring them as he started clicking around on his high-tech computer.

   "I'll call you," he said vaguely, his attention solely on the images in front of him, and she and Daryl slipped out, leaning against the side of her car as he smoked a cigarette. She made a quick call to Abe, updating him on where they were, and he dully spoke for a few minutes.

   Daryl ground out the stub with his boot, going around to the other side of the car. Andie wasn't in a hurry to get back to the office, and she drove slowly, eventually veering off as her riding buddy raised his eyebrows, shrugging good-naturedly when he saw where they were.

   Ten minutes later, the two of them were standing on the firing range, each aiming at a target, Andie picturing the faceless man from the jewelry store, hitting the chest and the head several times. Daryl's shots were as good as hers, and the two of them engaged in a shooting contest, with him edging her out just barely.

   It calmed her down, helped her to refocus, and they sat at one of the picnic tables outside the building, sipping water and chatting quietly when her phone started to ring. Seeing that it was Rick, she answered it, her face dropping as he told her that the local paper was running a story about the murders the following day.

   Someone had leaked out some of the details, and they were determined to alert the public unless they were given an exclusive, despite Rick's protests that it would endanger the case.

   When she told Daryl, his eyes narrowed, clearly thinking that Shane was the culprit, but she shook her head.

   "He'd never talk to the press," she insisted, following behind him as he stalked towards the car. "Whatever his faults, he'd never do something to fuck up this case. His career means more to him than that."

   "Well, someone's talkin'," he snapped, slamming the door as he got inside. Andie let him stew as they drove back to the precinct, walking alone back inside as Daryl had taken off ahead of her.

   By the time she reached the office, Daryl was speaking heatedly with Shane and Negan, and she went to her desk, peering into Rick's office, but the blinds were half drawn, and she couldn't make out which reporter he was conferring with. She didn't have to wait long, because the door opened a few seconds later, and she felt her blood boiling as Harley Smith came strutting out with a cocky smile on her face.

   She and Harley did _not_ get along, and there was bad blood there, all the way back to her rookie days when she'd screwed up the arrest of a local politician, resulting in him walking away from hit-and-run charges. It had very nearly ended her career before it began when Harley wrote a story on it, and ever since then, Andie had made it her mission to make sure that Harley never got a scoop from the Fairfax Police Department.

   Blonde, with big boobs and teeth that Julia Roberts would envy, Harley stopped at her desk, looking Andie up and down as she stared back, refusing to speak.

   Harley's eyes drifted beyond her shoulders, and her smile got even wider.

   "Good to see you, detective," she winked provocatively as Andie turned around to see Negan behind her, staring back at Harley in surprise. Oh, no this motherfucker did _not_ fuck her sworn enemy.

   As soon as Harley was out of sight, Andie grabbed her purse, fleeing the precinct with Negan hot on her heels. He jerked her to a stop just as she reached her car, and she faced him, unable to hide the anger.

   "You screwed Harley Smith?" she hissed, backing away from him as he started towards her.

   "I didn't fucking know she was a reporter," he shot back, clenching his hands into fists. "I never fucking told her anything about the case."

   This was why it would never work. Sleeping with Negan was a huge mistake, and she reached back, opening the door to her car. She had no right to be angry about him fucking Harley, but it felt like a betrayal, one he didn't even know he committed, and Andie shut the door in his face, driving out of the lot without looking back.

   She was done with cops, cases, and her fucked up love life for the day.

   The Grove was deserted when she sat down at the bar, eyeing Judge as he did the same back. Silently, he broke out the hard stuff, pouring her a glass of cognac, and she sipped it carefully, resting her head on her hand, slumping over the bar.

   "Do you wanna talk about it?" Judge leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head, but she pursed her lips, shaking her head.

   What the fuck was she going to do with her life? She couldn't keep on the way she was, closing people off and living only for her work. And she shouldn't jump into bed with the wrong guys just so she could feel good because it never lasted. But she didn't know how to open her heart again, to let herself commit to being vulnerable with another human being.

   Andie's head was spinning as the even crowd grew around her, everyone giving her space, even Simon. Music played, she sipped her drink, and the sounds of everyone else having a good time washed over her until her eyes blurred from self-pity, the tears slipping down her cheeks. Brushing them away surreptitiously, she drained the last of the cognac from her glass, spinning around in the stool to face Negan, aware that he'd been behind her for several minutes.

   He took her hand as she stepped down, leaning around her to grab her purse, her head buzzing over the dull roar of the Grove, not resisting when he led her out of the bar and down the street to his car, driving her home. All she wanted was for Negan to lift her up, to hold her tightly in his arms, and that was exactly what he did. So different from the night in his apartment, but so much the same, taking her inside and carrying her up to her room, setting her on her bed as she stared up at him.

   "Harley Smith was a shitty lay," he told her, pushing lightly at her shoulder to get her to lay down, and he pulled off her boots, setting them on the ground by her bed. "Those teeth fucking hurt when they graze your dick."

   "Why are you telling me this? I don't want to know."

   Negan eased himself down next to her, his eyebrows rising as he bounced up and down lightly. "This fucking mattress is amazing."

   Andie's mouth opened and closed, flopping onto her back as the room began to spin, and he placed his fingers on her arm, walking them up to her neck to sweep the hair away.

   "It hurt my fucking feelings when I woke up and found my bed empty," he murmured, feeling her tense up underneath him. "Used and discarded."

   "I'm sorry," she sighed, leaning minutely into his touch. "I don't...do well at the after part, obviously."

   "Neither do I," he snorted, making her turn to look at him suspiciously. His face was screwed up, making him look goofy, and she couldn't help smiling as she rolled to her side to face him. "It wasn't just about getting laid, Detective. I like you."

   The words frightened her. They weren't a declaration of love, but it was enough to remind her that she was drawn to this man for reasons beyond his looks. He wasn't here just to fuck her, or to fuck her over. He liked her, for now.

   Reaching out unsteadily, she placed her hand behind his head, pulling him down to her lips. In light of everything that was happening, she decided to go with it, for now. He couldn't promise to not hurt her, and she couldn't promise not to push him away, but the bed fit him nicely, and she felt safe enough to curl up into his chest, falling asleep to the same dream of him tracing her lips.


	12. It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing

_**'By all accounts, Elizabeth Greene was a sweet girl. A nice girl. The classic farmer's daughter, who left her home to head to the big city, on the cusp of womanhood. She loved animals, planning to become a veterinarian just like her father.** _

_**So what led her to meet up with a man that she'd never met? One that was found on a dating app? No one knows. This beautiful youngster had the world at her fingertips, with a high-school boyfriend that was nuts about her, according to neighbors.** _

_**It was a choice that would cost her everything.** _

_**Contrasting is the case of Rosita Espinosa. In her l** **ate** **twenties, the fiery Latina was world-weary, possessing a strong personality and a 'surefire b.s. detector', as her friend Holly explained.** _

_**"She was too smart to fall for cheap lines," Holly said, fighting back the tears. "Rosita was the strongest woman I'd ever known."** _

_**Yet, she too met up with a man, a virtual stranger, and she didn't survive the encounter.** _

_**Two women, ones that were vibrant and alive, with much to offer the world, both snuffed out by a man, ones that the police have been unable to identify. Was it the same man? Time will surely tell, but until that moment, something sinister has come to Fairfax.'** _

 

   "Fucking bitch," Andie swore, balling up the article and tossing it towards the garbage can. Harley Smith, reporter extraordinaire, had sensationalized Beth and Rosita's lives, alluding to partial blame for their deaths, and she had half a mind to pay that big-toothed bitch a social call.

   Pacing around the living room, she finally dialed her phone, taking a deep breath when it answered on the fourth ring.

   "Hello?" came a warbling voice, and she shut her eyes, imagining the face on the other line.

   "It's Andie."

   "Did you read it?" Maggie asked, and Andie sat down on the couch, rubbing her temples. "She made Beth sound like a slut or a simpleton. Like she caused her own death."

   "That reporter is an asshole, and she's just trying to sell papers."

   "Beth didn't deserve this, and neither does the other girl," Maggie raged, breathing raggedly. Andie let her vent for several minutes, and when the line went silent, she propped her feet on the coffee table.

   "The lab was able to get a partial picture of the guy that we think is doing this," she told her, hearing the other woman suck in her breath. "We're distributing it to all the papers, and spreading it online, but we're not saying why so that we don't scare him away. Someone's gonna recognize him, Maggie."

   "I can't do this," she sobbed, the phone rustling, and Andie made a soothing sound as she got herself back under control.

   "You're strong. You and your dad are going to get your justice if it's the last thing I do."

   When she hung up, Andie tossed the phone on the table, laying back on the couch and staring at the ceiling, eyeballing a crack in the corner. She'd have to call the property manager to look at it.

   The past week had sucked, both personally and professionally, and she was at her wit's end. Between Harley making a major nuisance of herself and Negan giving her the cold shoulder, something had to give. After he'd driven her home and got her to bed, he'd slipped out after she fell asleep, and his car was gone the next morning.

   At work, he'd been all business, barely giving her the time of day, and he and Daryl spent most of the days on the road, chasing leads and following up with Phillipe LeClair at the jewelry store, leaving her with Shane.

   Shane was a whole other ball of wax, and he'd kept up a rambling monologue about memories from their past, further confusing her, which might have been his intention.

   "Remember the time I tried to do the laundry, and I accidentally put the dish soap in instead of the detergent?" he laughed, making her smile despite herself.

   "I thought the bubbles would never stop coming out," Andie gave him a crooked grin, the memories of the two of them slipping and sliding through the laundry room to try to stop the washer as the foam poured out in a long, soft arc. "You never did admit that you did it so you could get out of doing laundry."

   He grinned, his eyes twinkling as he cocked his head to the side, a move he often made when she'd correctly guessed his motives. It stirred up a nostalgic affection for however brief, and she turned her head, the smile fading. Life was easy with Shane, it was fun.

   Until it wasn't.

   She could feel him following her with his eyes when she packed up for the weekend, making it hard to walk as confidently as she liked. Negan was nowhere to be found, and she scanned the lot for his car, but he wasn't likely to return. Neither was he at the townhouse when she got home, and after talking to Maggie, her house felt more like a prison.

   Reaching out blindly, she scrolled through her apps, pressing the little pink heart, finding a message from Sean.

    _Any chance you'd want to grab a drink tonight?_

   Hovering her thumb over the little bubble, she waffled, finally typing out a quick 'yes', dismayed that he answered almost immediately.

    _How about nine o'clock? You pick the place._

   There was an upscale lounge two towns over, and she sent him the address, telling him that she would meet him there, going upstairs to shower and dress.

   At eight-thirty, Andie locked her door, making her way to her car when the familiar rumble of a Camaro engine sounded from down the street. She sped up, trying to get to her sedan before he reached the front of the townhouse, just missing the mark.

   Negan pulled his car right behind hers as she opened the door, sliding in as he got out, coming to her window and knocking on it as she started the engine. When she didn't respond, he knocked harder, and she lowered the window, glancing up at him as he took in her outfit.

   She was dressed in a tight, black lace cocktail dress, with high heels and a thick, gold necklace, the scent of perfume wafting in the air.

   "Yes?"

   "Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his hands halfway inside the car. He smelled like grass and fresh air, and there were dirt stains on his t-shirt, though it didn't tell her much about where he'd been.

   "I have a date," Andie told him after a brief pause, looking him in the eye. She almost snapped at Negan, telling him that it was none of his business where she was going, especially after a week of not talking, but it was better to keep a cool head, and she was treated to him rocking back slightly, thrown off, though he quickly recovered.

   "Have fun," he told her flippantly, turning away and heading towards his house.

   "You, too, Negan," she called out, stepping on the gas, a faint smile on her face until the reached the end of the street. Have fun? Christ, he was even more immature and fucked up than she was.

   The Standard Lounge was all glass and steel, an odd setup seeing as it was far outside a metropolitan area, but it had done amazing business since it had opened up the year before. Almost every car parked outside was either a Mercedes or an Audi, and Andie pulled into one of the few remaining spots, right under a light.

   Smoothing out her hair, she followed a well-dressed crowd towards the entrance, standing in line and handing her license to the doorman who waved her through with an approving nod. Soft music was playing in the background as she stepped down into the main room, filled with low light and marble tables.

   The bar was enormous, with shelves of high-end liquor that reached twenty feet into the air. Supple, leather chairs, art-deco decor, and a much richer clientele than she was used to interacting with, Andie chose the place for two reasons.

   One, because she wanted to check the place out, and the other was because it seemed like it would suit Sean more since he had a white-collar job. She wanted to see what he was like when he was in his element, and frankly, he was the opposite of Negan. Reserved, gentlemanly, and obviously interested in her. It felt like the adult thing to do, to see if she had chemistry with him, if he could incite a similar passion in her that Negan could.

   Spying him at a premier table near the back corner of the room, she plastered a smile on her face as Sean stood up, his jaw dropping when he saw her weaving her way through the sitting area.

   He was a handsome man, and he was dressed in a nice suit and a crisp, white button down, smelling like expensive cologne.

   "Wow," he breathed, taking her hand and holding out one of the chairs, releasing it when she was secure. "This was worth the drive."

   Andie hoped it was, too.

 

   "Real smooth, dick."

   Daryl stood shoulder to shoulder with Negan, the two of them watching as Andie's car rounded the corner and out of sight. Daryl had been an unwilling witness to Negan's moronic attempt to...he wasn't even sure what it was.

   "What the fuck is tha matter with you? Do you have any relationship skills at all?"

   "At least I _have_ a quasi-relationship to fuck up, which is more than I can say for you," Negan shot him a look, stumbling when Daryl charged past him, knocking him sideways. "Get yourself laid, man!"

   The door to the townhouse slammed shut, leaving him standing alone in the rapidly darkening evening, a rushing anger inside that made him want to take a baseball bat to anything breakable, to destroy everything around him because he was good at it. It's what he did.

   When he woke up Tuesday morning, Andie had her arms wrapped around his waist, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. He'd felt a rush of warmth, wanting to stay in the bed with her, to get her to open her heart to him and let him deep inside her head, if not her body. The intensity of the feeling freaked him the fuck out, and he'd eased himself out from under her, the sigh that she let out sending a chill up his spine.

   Lucille used to get pissed at him when he'd pepper his endearments to her with cuss words.

   "Can't you be romantic, just once?" she'd punch him in the chest, giving him the cold shoulder. He'd thought he was, in his own way. Negan wasn't refined like Lucille was. She'd gone to a good school, and was financially well-off, thanks to her parents. He wasn't. His parents were working class, and he'd left home at seventeen, getting as far away from his father as possible, tired of being reminded of what a burden he was.

   She'd loved his rough edges at first, the fact that he was different than all of the other guys she'd dated. Nights on the back of his bike, fucking under the stars. But the shine had worn off after they married, not that he hadn't done his fair share to hurry it along. When he'd started with the police force, it came with respect, and a little fear, and it corroded something inside him, spurring him to see even more adulation.

   There were plenty of women to give it to him, and he used his looks and his badge to plow his way through half of Atlanta, all while Lucille sat at home. How could he blame her for pulling away from him, when he'd done nothing to keep her close?

   For his own good, and for Andie's, he'd kept his distance from her. She didn't want to date a cop, to make another mistake like she'd made with Shane, and he didn't want her work to be tainted by another workplace relationship. The only problem was that he liked her. He liked her looks, and he damned sure liked her personality. She was able to stand up to him, to push back when he poked at her. Andie wasn't gentle and ethereally beautiful like Lucille. She was more like him.

   Now, she was out with Phillippe, or the banker guy from the dating app. Who knows? Maybe there was another guy in the running. A Lucille in male form. Someone who had a shit-ton of money, and could treat her well, able to express how he felt, unlike Negan, who was only able to choke out a grade-school 'I like you' when he knew that she was drunk.

   With slumped shoulders, he headed inside, stewing over his own stupidity, and the fact that he'd never stop fucking up chances to change his life.

 

 

     
   Andie shut her eyes as Sean turned her slowly on the dance floor, joined by other couples as the bar announced last call. The night had been spent in heavy conversation, and he'd learned more about her than she had him. Her father, the fact that she'd essentially grown up without a mother. Even her brief engagement with Shane. He'd listened attentively, saying all the right things, treating her with a gentleman's touch.

   And when he'd asked her to dance, she didn't hesitate, holding out her hand as he led her to the middle of the floor, placing his hand on her back and his chin on her shoulder.

    _This is what relationships should be_ , she thought, breathing in the spicy smell of cologne, wisps of his hair tickling her cheek. Guys like Sean were what most women dreamed of. Someone that would whisk them off to a fancy dinner, or maybe the theatre. Ones that would never forget an anniversary, or where they went on a first date.

   As the song ended, he brushed his lips against hers, silently seeking permission, and she granted it, opening her mouth slightly, wanting to know if it would feel like...

   But it didn't. It was pleasant, of course. He knew what he was doing, but there was no buzzing feeling, no impending sense of doom that only really great loves could give you. It was just perfectly nice, and a piece of her heart broke, deep down.

   Opening her eyes, she could see the passion in his, but there was none reflected back, and his face dropped.

   "I see," he murmured, touching his forehead to hers.

   "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling his hand tighten on her spine. "I should go."

   "I'll walk you out."

   Sean let her go, and she picked up her purse, backing away from him, the urge to cry building.

   "Take care of yourself, Sean."

   "You, too, Andie."

   He stood there alone amidst a sea of people coupling off for the night, and she turned away, disappearing into the crowd that was slowly filtering out.

   She should've expected to see Negan when she pulled up to her house, yet it was a surprise, making her stomach flutter. He was sitting on her steps, his hands linked together around his knees, the glare from her porchlight leaching all the color from his features.

   Coming to a stop in front of him, they regarded each other, both hesitant and unsure until he stood up, reaching for her keys. Andie handed them over, letting him open the door, and they stepped into her apartment.

 

 

     
   He was starting to think that Andie would never get home, when the rattle of keys in a lock alerted him, and he stood up inside her guest room, hiding behind the open door.

   Because he knew her so well, he'd crawled in through the window into the dark apartment, making his way up there to wait, sure that she wouldn't go home with that cheeseball that she'd gone to meet. He'd hacked into her profile, seeing that they'd made a date, so he had plenty of time to just be. To soak up everything about her. Sean would never win her heart.

   He wasn't exciting enough. Not like him and Negan. Andie needed a real man, one who could elicit strong feelings, make her dominate _and_ submit.

   Negan needed someone like him, too. Only _he_ could tame the restlessness that drove Negan to seek comfort in whatever hole he could.

   The sound of muffled steps made his heart skip a beat, and he held his breath, anticipating the moment she would come into view, hoping that she'd go right to sleep so he could watch over her.

   But it was a shock of ice water, a taser to his spine when not just Andie, but Negan as well stumbled past the guest room, fumbling with zippers and buttons, shedding their clothes on the way to the bed. He could hear a thump as they landed on the mattress, edging his way out. He already knew that he could see her bed reflected in the mirror, and he crawled to the open door, watching in fascination as Negan stripped bare, hitching her legs around his waist.

   His buttocks clenched over and over as he thrust into her, both of them moaning, clawing and kissing, biting and pulling hair. It made him confused. It made him hard as he saw both Andie and Negan, and Negan and Mother, the images blending, mixing together, and a soft groan slipped from his lips, his hand slipping down into his pants to quench the ache, the pain of being left out, again, stuck hidden in a room while others got their pleasure.

   The soft vestiges of dawn were flickering when he crept down the steps, soundlessly opening the living room window to sneak back out.

   God, he loved them both. He had to have them, and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying this, as I'm trying to blend the sweet with the hella creepy. Big things are coming!


	13. Lather, Rinse, Repeat

   Negan's hand twitched on the gear shift, and Andie tried to ignore it, her own fingers tingling as she set them on her knee. She knew that he was thinking about holding her hand, and he was hesitating even though they'd had sex twice already. To both of them, sex was just that...sex. Holding hands was a different level of intimacy, one they were both scared to initiate, for fear of rejection.

   She decided to woman up, reaching out without looking and taking his hand, setting it in her lap, closing her own around his. She could see him smiling out of the corner of her eye, and it filled her with an unexpected warmth, different than the sexual attraction that she felt for him. 

   He'd actually spent the entire night with her, the two of them waking up mid-morning, still nude, and still huddled together. Andie had stretched, accidentally smacking him in the face with her knuckles. He let out a huff, easing her arm away without opening his eyes, rolling onto his back, coughing lightly.

   "You know I'm only sleeping with you for this bed," he mumbled with a slight smirk. "I've never slept better."

   Andie snorted, sitting up. The brief urge to cover herself percolated, but Negan had seen and touched every inch of her, though they had yet to talk about what was happening with the two of them.

   When she'd kissed Sean the night before, it had been okay. Nice, even. But it was nothing compared to the way her body and heart responded to Negan, and she knew that no one else probably would. It was more than just a sexual attraction, which was her biggest fear. Not only to really care about someone again, but to have it be another cop was nearly catastrophic in her eyes.

   Still, when she looked over her shoulder at him watching her with one eye opened, she crawled on top of him, covering her back with the sheet, resting on her knees as he traced her spine. 

   "Can we make up some ground rules?"

   "Ground rules?" he scoffed, groaning when she squeezed her legs together, cutting off his air. "All right," he conceded, tickling her side.

   "No more ignoring me," she said, holding up her index finger. "No more blowing me off. You can be professional at work and not be a dick."

   Negan's lips twitched, but he nodded after a moment. "What else?"

   "If you don't want to be exclusive, that's fine," she told him, a warm thrill spreading through her middle when he frowned, "but no more sleeping with my enemies."

   "I didn't-"

   "I know you didn't know," she cut him off, easing down onto her elbows, cocking her head to the side. "But receptionists and reporters? Too cliche, man."

   With a flick of his hips, Negan reversed their positions, running his nose along her jaw, the sheets tangling around their legs.

   "Do you _want_ me to sleep with other women?" he nudged her face, waiting for her answer. 

   "No."

   "Do _you_ want to keep sleeping with other men?"

   Her eyes flashed angrily as he grinned, pushing his pelvis into her abdomen, though he wasn't quite aroused. Andie's cheeks were getting flush, her position of dominance weakening slightly, and he'd never seen anything more attractive. 

   "No."

   "Okay, then," he said, like they'd just struck a business deal. "No tartlets for me, and no fucking French guys, business guys, or barflies for you." He didn't know the name of her casual friend at the Grove, but there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone else touch her. Not anymore. "There's just one more thing."

   She studied him, trying to figure out what he was going to say before he said it. Did he want her off the case? To delete the app that she was still searching for the Heartbreaker on?

   "Well? _What?"_ she finally snapped, throwing him off. To soften the blow, she cupped his cheek, running her thumb along the bone under his eye. "Sorry."

   "You're fucking pissy when you wake up."

   "Not that you'd know," she needled him, kicking her leg free, and bopping him in the ass with her heel. He was here, now.

   "Anyways," he sniped, tugging on a lock of her hair, reverting to a scowl. "I'd like you to come with me today."

   "Where are you going?"

   He rolled off of her without an answer, and she turned to her side, watching as he put his jeans on, buttoning them and slinging his shirt over his shoulder. 

   "I'm going to get a shower, Detective. I'll pick you up in an hour. Wear something comfortable."

   Now they were on their way to Atlanta, which was all that he would tell her, an overnight bag sitting in the back of his Camaro, as per his request. 

   The nervous energy that was permeating the car kept her from speaking, though she was dying to start learning more about him, aside from Lucille. She wanted to know about what made him tick, how he came to be who he was. What led him to become a cop? What did he do with his free time when he wasn't lining up his next lay? Did he do anything besides that?  
Andie let go of Negan's hand when her phone rang, and she saw it was Sasha, answering it discreetly as Negan's hand slid towards the top of her thigh, making the skin underneath tickle. 

   "Hey," she answered. "What's up? Is everything okay? How's Abe?"

   "It's fine," Sasha told her, sounding tired. "I just wanted to check in. I haven't seen you in a while. Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"

   "Oh, I can't," she said, placing her hand on top of Negan's. "I'm out of town for the day."

   Sasha perked up, the inflection in her voice rising. 

   " _Really?_ With who? Please don't say Shane."

   Negan's fingers tightened around her thigh, because of course he could hear what she said. Goddamned iPhones.

   "Of course not," Andie hissed, focusing on the dashboard. "How's the baby?"

   Sasha got distracted by the question, launching into details about her latest symptoms which included extreme fatigue. 

   "The worst is I'm so hungry all the time," she fretted as Andie chuckled. "All I want are Cheetos and Cherry Coke. It's hell on my stomach."

   "Well, make Abe stock up. Look, I gotta go. Can I call you tomorrow?"

   "You'd better. I need details on this mystery man."

   Andie could see Negan smiling in her peripheral vision, and she finished the call, yanking on the hair on top of his hand. 

   "I love being the mystery man," he teased her, turning on his signal to exit the freeway near Buckhead. She still had no idea what they were doing, and Andie chuffed under her breath. No doubt he'd been a mystery man for plenty of women. 

   To her surprise, he turned into the North Atlanta High School, driving past the large main building to the football field at the back of the property, ignoring her questioning look. The lot was pretty filled, and he parked near the edge, turning off the Camaro.

   While she looked around at the families and kids streaming towards the field, he came over and opened her door. "There are some people I want you to meet."

   Inside the fence, the stands were half-filled with spectators as dozens of young girls in track shorts stretched and prepared to run, and Negan scanned the crowd, pulling her along when she started to lag behind, completely thrown off by where they were. 

   They started up the bleacher steps, going all the way to the top when a silver-haired woman waved to them, patting the empty space next to her. Negan led her to the middle of the row, planting a kiss on the woman's cheek.

   "I'm so glad you came," she punched him on the shoulder, leaning around him to smile at Andie. "Hi, I'm Carol."

   She stuck out her hand, and Andie reached around Negan's back to shake it, nearly toppling down the bleachers when he turned suddenly, catching her by the elbow.

   "Andie, this is my friend Carol. This is Andie, the detective I've been working with in Fairfax."

   Carol gave him an indulgent smile, winking at Andie, and he stepped around her to go back towards the steps.

   "I want to go say 'hi' to Sophia. Will you be all right?" he asked her, but Carol answered for her, pulling her down next to her.

   "We'll be fine."

   Andie watched as he jogged down the steps, narrowly missing a couple that was climbing without looking, and he glided to the fence that surrounded the track, waving to a young, brown-haired girl that came over, hugging her through the barrier.

   "Your daughter?" Andie asked, and Carol smiled, clearly filled with affection for the two of them. Sophia was as skinny as a rail, but even from here she could see that the child was happy that Negan had come, talking animatedly to him as he leaned his elbows on the fence, listening attentively. 

   "I've known Negan for a few years," Carol said, her eyes straying towards Andie's. "He helped me escape an abusive situation, and he's been there for us ever since."

   Andie's eyes widened as she studied the other woman. Her first impression of Carol was that of a woman who was confident and secure, and her eyes were filled with intelligence and steel. It was hard to picture her as a victim, and Carol seemed to recognize that.

   "My husband, Ed, was a piece of shit," she said matter-of-factly. "He treated me worse than a dog, and I was too scared to leave. To do anything, really, even though he'd started hurting me in front of Sophia."

   "I'm so sorry," Andie murmured, shaking her head. She'd seen enough domestic situations herself, and it had always been one of the hardest parts of the job, especially when kids were involved. "I'm glad you were able to extract yourself from the home."

   "I didn't," Carol snorted, looking out over the field. The wind was picking up, and the flags started to flap loudly above their heads. A few people were standing a couple of rows down, and she lost sight of Negan and the girl. "Ed kept us hostage in our home for hours until one of the negotiators was able to talk him down. Negan was there, and he beat the holy hell out of Ed. Almost lost his job over it."

   "Good," Andie muttered, freezing momentarily as Carol laughed. "I didn't mean about him getting in trouble. I meant about beating your husband up."

   "I know what you meant. But Negan was there for us, and he helped me get a job, get back on my feet. Sophia really took a shine to him, and it helped her confidence. He was the one who suggested that she take up running."

   Andie felt struck with sympathy and affection for him as he kissed the top of Sophia's head before she went back to her teammates. 

   "He's a good man," she said softly, feeling that stirring warmth in her chest as he started back up the steps. 

   "I think so, too," Carol agreed, placing her hand on her forearm. "So, don't hurt him."

   "I-"

   "I also told him the same thing about you," Carol smirked. "He really gets in his own way sometimes. Fear makes him do and say some really stupid things."

   Man, this woman was certainly one of a kind, and Andie gave her a tight smile, not sure what or if she could say anything as Negan reached their row. He sensed that they were talking about something serious, and he sat down next to her, leaning around her to give Carol a warning look.

   "What?"

   "Nothing," Carol assured him, her eyes shifting back towards the steps. 

   A very handsome man was making his way to the top of the bleachers, and he only had eyes for Carol. Tall, with grey dreadlocks, he was wearing a denim shirt and black pants, his whole face lighting up when he got close. It seemed she wasn't the only one getting introduced to important people today.

   Negan stood up, looking from Carol to the man as he let him by, scrutinizing him thoroughly as Andie let him pass. He smelled good, like incense and spice.   
Carol took his hand, causing a logjam, and he turned to face Andie and Negan, his brown eyes twinkling.

   "Ezekiel, this is Negan and Andie," she introduced them, and he gave Andie a polite bow before shaking hands with Negan. "Ezekiel and I have been seeing each other for a few weeks. He's been looking forward to meeting you."

   Negan didn't appear as enthused, but he plastered something resembling a smile on his face, nodding once before sitting back down. 

   "It's a pleasure," Ezekiel said in a voice as rich and smoky as Negan's. "I've heard a great deal about you."

   "Funny, I haven't heard anything about you," Negan retorted, and Andie elbowed him in the side discreetly. 

   While they waited for the meet to start, Andie and Ezekiel chatted quietly since Carol had slid down to let them sit near each other. Andie didn't believe at all that Negan was jealous, just protective of Carol and Sophia, which she certainly understood. But as far as she could tell, Ezekiel was a gem. 

   He spoke formally, but it turned out that he worked at the Atlanta Zoo, caring for the big cats, which fascinated her, and they engaged in a lively conversation about them.

   "God, I'd love to pet one," she sighed, earning a raucous laugh from Ezekiel and a stunned look from Negan. 

   "I wouldn't recommend it," he told her as she grinned. "They would most likely make a meal of you. The only one that I trust even slightly is Shiva."

   "Oh, that damned tiger," Carol muttered, rolling her eyes. "If she was a woman, I'd think you'd write a sonnet about her."

   "You are the only one who inspires me, darling," he said, putting his arm around her. "But Shiva is special. I can see it in her eyes. She has an intelligence that would rival any man."

   Negan loudly cleared his throat, getting their attention, and he jabbed his finger towards the track, alerting him that the meet was starting.

   Andie had never been to a track meet before, but it ended up being really fun, and very exciting when Sophia took the lead in the 800 meter, edging out the girl to her right. She set a school record, and they all lurched to their feet to cheer her on, and Carol wiped her eyes, a proud mama. 

   Negan was nearly as ecstatic, shouting at the top of his lungs, scaring the shit out of the people in front of them.

   When the last race was run, he was the first one down to congratulate her, picking her up and swinging her around. The girl was wearing a huge smile, and she gave Andie a shy look as he set her down. Carol was quick to hug her, praising her as Ezekiel looked on, a huge grin on his face. He patted her head, telling her what a wonderful job she did, and she thanked him, her cheeks pink from exertion.

   "I want you to meet someone," Carol told her, leading her forwards to stand in front of Andie. "This is Negan's friend, Andie."

   "Congratulations," she told Sophia, "you did an awesome job."

   "Thank you," the girl looked from her to Negan. "Are you a cop, too?"

   "I am," Andie confirmed as the girl's eyes widened. "I'm a detective in Fairfax."

   "Wow," she breathed as Andie bent down a little. "That's so cool. My mom works for the 911 dispatchers."

   "Well, your mom's got one of the most important jobs in the force," Andie told her, meaning every word. "Without people like her, we'd never be able to do our best work."

   "For damned sure," Negan piped in, ducking his head as Carol swatted at him. Sophia laughed, shoving him in the stomach, and he wrestled her for a moment before slinging her over his shoulder, starting for the exit. 

   When they got to the cars, he chatted with Carol, ignoring Ezekiel, and he promised to come to the next meet.

   "Are you coming, too?" Sophia asked her, and Andie looked at Negan, who seemed to be waiting for an answer as well.

   "I'd love to."

   "Cool," she chirped as one of the other girls called out to her, backing away to go see her friend. "'Bye!"

   After she took off, Carol gave her a hug, surprising her, holding her firmly by the shoulders as Negan looked on. 

   "It was so great to meet you, Andie. I hope to see much more of you."

   She took Ezekiel's hand with a wave, and the two of them following behind Sophia, whose arm was around her friend's, the little family disappearing behind a van. 

   Negan took her arm, and the two of them walked back to his car, her mind filled with many thoughts. The most recurring one was that Negan looked totally enchanted with the little girl, and he was a natural with kids. The other was that Carol was very protective of him, and she wondered what she'd seen of his dating life and what she knew about Lucille.

   As soon as they got into the Camaro, he pulled her in, kissing her fervently. Never mind that there were people streaming by the car, it didn't seem to matter to him, and she took a deep breath when they broke apart, thrilled and afraid of the look in his eyes.

   "I take it I passed the test?" she panted, sitting back. 

   "It wasn't a test," he said in a rough voice, clawing his hand into her neck, almost sitting in her lap. "I wanted you to see what's important to me. I'm not just all about random fucking, you know."

   She blinked up at him as he smiled, feeling like he'd peeked into her head.

   "Speaking of, do you wanna screw under the bleachers when everyone leaves?"

   "Been there, done that already."

   It made him laugh heartily as he ran his hand down her neck, letting her go.

   "You're a fucking naughty girl, aren't you, baby?."

   "I thought I told you to call me Andie, or detective."

   Negan gave her a mocking salute, starting up the car as she fastened her seat belt. As they left the school, a giddy feeling took over her body, the knowledge that she must be someone special to be let into his inner circle, and it scared the shit out of her at the same time. 

   How fast was too fast? And why didn't she seem more trepidacious?

   "So, now what?"

   This time, Negan reached for her hand on his own, linking his fingers through hers and bringing them to his lips, as happy as she'd ever seen him.

   "Anything you want, detective."

   "Let's go to your place," she suggested, not because she just wanted to sleep with him. "I'd like to see it in the daylight." 

 

 

   Negan studied Andie's silhouette in the moonlight, the sheets sitting low on her waist. Her shoulders were slightly curved, with her hand resting on the pillow. The backlight from the moon kept her face hidden from him, but it didn't matter. He was starting to know her face well after studying it for the last few weeks. 

   The curve of her lips, the little indent in her chin. The way her lashes touched her cheeks when she blinked or slept. Even the little mole on her upper lip. It was all fascinating to him, and he watched her sleep for a few minutes before rising and descending the steps to the living room. 

   He tried to remain as quiet as possible since the sound downstairs traveled easily to the loft. Walking to the large windows, he looked out over the lot, past it to the skyline of the city. It was late, but most of the buildings were still lit up, one of the reasons he took this apartment. He'd spent many sleepless nights just watching the cityscape, wondering what the populace was doing, what they were thinking.

   It was in those lonely hours that he thought about Lucille, about her final days. While she drifted in and out of consciousness, he'd stand at the windows in her hospital room, thinking about all of the happy people outside, the ones that were curled up together in bed, or sacked out on a couch watching movies. All of the things that he should've been doing with his wife instead of screwing nameless women in the back seat of his car or in some cheap motel that rented by the hour. 

   No matter how many times he came, how many orgasms he doled out to others, it never satisfied him, and he could never figure out why. Sex was awesome, and he was a fucking pro at it. But he knew what he was doing was wrong, yet he couldn't stop. The little voice in his head would tell him to go home to his wife, to take her out to dinner, or buy her flowers. And he'd start to drive home, to call for reservations, but at the last minute, he'd hang up the phone, and stop off at a bar, the first one he could find. 

   Why couldn't he be faithful to a woman that loved him? Who treated him better than his own family had? Any psychologist would probably tell him that it was because he felt he didn't deserve it, but that was bullshit. He knew that he did. There was just something broken inside him. 

   And when Lucille took her last ragged breath, a part of him died with her, because it was too late. He'd never make up for what he'd done to her. So, he closed himself off from everyone, and concentrated on his job and random sex, never spending more than one night with any of them. He wasn't ever going to put another woman through what he'd put Lucille through.

   But now, there was another, one that was currently zonked out in his bed, and the urge to leave, to tell her to save herself was drowning him, making him want to break things again. The day with Carol and Sophia seemed like it was years ago, a distant thing, a long lost memory that he was desperate to cling to, because watching Andie with them and enjoying a part of his life was wonderous.

   Spending the day in his apartment, just talking and eating takeout had been great, one of the all-time best experiences that he'd had since he'd lost Lucille. She'd rested up against him as they laid on the couch, watching some stupid horror movie, her nails moving lightly up and down his forearm.

   Until now. Until he was alone again with his doubts and his fears, afraid that he'd accidentally screw someone else, or say something stupid and cutting, and he'd be alone again. 

   Sighing, he walked over to his counter, where a picture of Lucille sat, a reminder of everything he'd ever loved and lost, and he picked it up, drinking in the smile on her face. He'd snapped the photo after they'd taken an afternoon ride on his motorcycle. Messed up hair, rosy cheeks, and an air of contentment, before she knew about the affairs.

   "How do I not mess this up, sweetheart?" he asked her quietly. But Lucille had no answer for him. She just smiled as if to say, 'Don't you think I'd tell you if I knew?'

   He nearly dropped the picture, breaking it when soft fingers stroked the back of his neck, and he turned quickly to see Andie behind him with furrowed brows. 

   She pulled him close, hugging him tightly, and he wanted to lash out, to push her away, knowing that she could feel how stiff he was. How useless. Unworthy of being cared about by another human being.

   "Don't overthink this, Negan," she said to him, kissing the side of his neck. "We'll try not to screw this up together, okay?"

   In the moonlight of his apartment, with Lucille behind him and Andie in front of him, he nodded into her hair, expelling his breath, fighting the urges that still lingered inside him, simmering down in his gut. They quieted, but didn't extinguish. 

   Maybe they never would.

 

 


	14. I Knew That Noose Was Too Loose

   "Anything?"

   "No," Andie sighed, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders as they reached another dead end. After they'd distributed the picture of their only suspect, tips had flooded the dedicated line that had been set up, sending them on what amounted to a wild goose chase.

   Everyone and their brother seemed to think that they knew the man who was partially hidden by a baseball cap, and every available cop had been dispatched to take statements and make inquiries. 

   Andie had been with Shane all week, and it was wearing on her, the constant questions about her life and the way he was trying to ingratiate himself. Half his attention was on the case, and the other was on her.

   Mrs. Julian was their last stop of the day, an elderly woman who'd called in to say that the man in the photo was her son, Al. She'd insisted that he'd stolen her retirement savings and taken off, but when they arrived, it was clear that the elderly woman was in a full-on dementia episode, and a quick investigation determined that her only son, Al, had died ten years prior in a car accident.

   "Can you call Andrea over at social services?" she asked Rick, snapping her fingers at Shane when he almost ran a stop sign, ignoring his mutterings as she explained the situation to her boss. "This woman shouldn't be alone, and she has no family left."

   Rick was as disappointed as she was, but he said he'd get a hold of someone to do a welfare check on Mrs. Julian. He told her that they'd gotten a few more calls, but none that seemed promising. Truthfully, she was burnt out, and more than ready to call it a day. She'd barely seen Negan all week, since he'd stayed in Atlanta to catch up on some of the cases that he'd been neglecting, dropping her off Sunday night with a promise to return by the next weekend. 

   Each night at nine o'clock, he'd call her, and they'd talk about their day, the kind of phone call that she didn't know she'd missed or needed until it started happening on a regular basis. The sharing of details, no matter how mundane, awakened a distant part of her, the need to be coupled up with another human being, something she'd denied herself for far too long. 

   She missed him, even after such a short time, the physical presence of him, though there was just a lingering doubt, an uneasiness that he'd sleep around while he was back in Atlanta.

   It's not like she'd know unless he told her, and when she'd found him in his kitchen, talking to a picture of his wife, it kind of freaked her out. 

    _'How do I not mess this up, sweetheart?'_

   Negan cared about her, enough to worry that he'd fuck up, and Carol's description of him kept playing over and over in her head until he called each night. "Fear makes him say and do stupid things," she'd told Andie. 

   "Blue," Shane said, prompting her to turn her head, her phone still poised in her hand. "You all there?"

   "Yeah," she put the phone down on the console, twisting her head rapidly to crack it. "I'm just beat. Thank God it's Friday."

   "Speaking of," he was trying to sound casual. "You up for grabbing a drink?"

   Christ, he just wouldn't let up. The looks, the reminders about things that they used to do together, casual mentions of places they used to eat when they would drive around. It was like he was testing the waters, trying to gauge whether or not she'd be receptive to spending time with him outside of work.

   "Shane, I'm seeing someone," she told him bluntly, aware of the way his eyes dimmed, the subtle downturn of his mouth. "I appreciate that you want to reconnect, but I've moved on. Whatever regrets you have about the way things ended with us, you have to let it go. We're both better off now."

   He nodded once, a stiff movement that was at odds with the smile on his face, and they drove back to the station in silence, with not even the radio to distract them. 

   "Can I ask who?" he said into the wheel, turning off the ignition. "Do I know 'em?"

   Andie got out of the car, slamming the door. Let him wonder for once since he was the one that walked out and never looked back. There was no Camaro in the lot and she felt her spirits dip even further. All she wanted was to drop off her reports and go home, and as she climbed the steps, she checked her phone, even though she'd just used it, but there was nothing from Negan. 

   Rick was sitting at his desk with his feet propped up, ready to fall asleep when she came in without knocking. He dropped them to the floor when she sat down, narrowing her eyes.

   "You seem overwhelmingly busy, boss."

   "I spent all day with the profiler," Rick pushed a folder across the desk, fixing her with his patented stare, only letting up when Shane came stomping in, taking the chair next to her. 

  "How bad?"

   He gestured to the file, and she opened it, her mouth turning down the further she got. 

    _"...probable childhood trauma..."_

_"...rejection from females..."_

_"...sexual dysfunction..."_

_"...extreme reactions stemming from frustration in regards to male/female relationships..."_

   Each hypothesis was more disturbing, painting the picture of a very dangerous and disturbed individual, one that they needed to get off the street and away from vulnerable women.

   "This... Michonne," Andie murmured, scanning the notes for the profiler's name. "Has she seen any cases this fucked up before?   Shane took the file from her, having a much more subdued reaction, probably because he dealt with this kind of fuckery more often than they had. 

   "Whoever this is, they're highly intelligent," Shane said as he flipped the file shut. "You can't have such a complex ritual and not be able to foresee any problems, plus the fact that he has no problem blowing money. Can we research any millionaires that reside in Georgia? See if any of them are in the age range we're looking for?"

   "I'll put Abe on it," Rick gave Andie a confirming look, and she agreed. He couldn't be apart of the investigation, but he could definitely do some intel. Plus, he was driving Sasha crazy, and Andie was afraid that with her erratic hormones, she'd kick his ass out, and then she'd be stuck dealing with him.

   Whoever this guy was, he had an advantage over them, and that pissed her off. 

   Money.

   Those that had the financial resources were almost always more likely to get away with shit than the ones that didn't. It was a fact, a part of life that Andie had understood for far too long. Desperation bled through the actions and intentions of people who needed money, needed things to live. The wealthy didn't have that drive, that fear to make them take chances the same way. It gave them time and it gave them access to things that they took for granted.

   And this guy was proof. If he was sitting on a mountain of money, he could do anything he wanted. Buy a four hundred thousand dollar watch with cash? No problem. Move through life unseen and unknown by the general population? Apparently.

   "She finds this guy to be one of the most intelligent, most disturbed she's studied," Rick told her, and the glow in his face made her wonder a little bit more about this Michonne woman. She knew that he and Lori were having problems, not that she intended to. She'd inadvertently overheard one of their conversations about their couples therapy. About Rick not taking it seriously enough, according to Lori. 

   Rick took note of how her eyebrows rose, and he stood up abruptly, handing her a plain, white business card.

   "Here. You can give her a call on Monday."

   Andie put the card in her purse, giving a general goodbye, even though Shane was staring directly at her, and she hustled out of the room, going to her desk to pack up a few things that she wanted to look over while she was at home. Another check of her phone showed no messages from Negan, and against her better judgment, she typed out a quick 'hello', which was quickly answered.

   ' _I can't talk right now. Call you later?'_

   With a deep breath, she left for the day, glancing one last time at Rick's office, where Shane was still huddled up with him, engaged in a deep conversation. It was probably better that she didn't know what they were saying.

   The grocery store was particularly crowded, filled with harried moms and confused looking bachelors, all trying to stock up for what was supposed to be a gorgeous weekend. Full sun and eighties, and Andie filled her cart, thinking that she'd clean off her grill and have a little cookout, whether she saw Negan or not, though she'd definitely rather have him at her house.

   She was just reaching for the last pack of t-bones when a hand closed on them at the same time as her. Startled, she looked up into a smiling face, one that looked familiar, and he cocked his head to the side, recognition dawning in his eyes. 

   "Apples, right?" the man chuckled, and Andie suddenly remembered. This was the guy who'd wrangled her wayward fruit after the funeral, and she let go of the meat with a sheepish smile. 

   "You take it," she waved off as he tried to hand them to her. "I feel like I owe you."

   The man was bemused, and he held up the steaks in a 'thank you' gesture, setting them in his basket. Suddenly, she went flying forward, hitting him in the chest, both of them stumbling as a woman rushed towards them. 

   "Oh God, I'm so sorry! _Tyler_ ," she scolded her son, who had accidentally rammed her from behind, yanking the cart back a few feet. "Are you all right?"

   Andie's cheeks were burning as she straightened herself up, the man gently holding her elbow as she rubbed the back of her knee. A boy, about seven, was on the verge of tears as the mom marched him over to apologize to her.

   "I'm sorry," he sniffled, his little voice trembling as she bent down, waiting until he looked her in the eye. 

   "It's okay," she told him. "I know it's fun to push the cart, just be careful, all right?"

   His mother gave her an apologetic look, herding her son off through the crowd, and she turned around to give her own apology to the blonde guy for bumping him, but he was halfway to the produce section, though he'd left the steaks behind.

   Well, that was nice, considering she took a heavy blow for them. Limping her way through the store, she finally got checked out, heading into the dusk towards home, unloading the groceries as her phone sat quietly on the counter next to a bottle of wine and some files. 

   By eight-thirty, she'd given up on hearing from Negan, and she downed a glass of wine as she stared at the television, more bummed than she cared to admit. Strange how attached she'd become after such a short time, especially since she hadn't really let herself open up much in the past few years. It didn't bode well for her, she supposed. 

   Her phone rang exactly at nine o'clock, and she held it in her hand, briefly weighing whether or not she wanted to answer. It was the stubborn part of her, the urge to punish him for blowing her off all day, an immature reaction to feeling vulnerable, but after a few rings, she pressed the button, hearing the sound of wind blowing through the speaker.

   "Hello?"

   "Hello, Detective," he said, the sound of his voice making her shiver slightly. "I'm so fucking sorry I wasn't able to get back to you earlier. I've been up to my ass in casework, and I'm just getting out of the precinct."

   The tension that she was holding in her spine, a fleeting fear that he was lying to her dissipated as quickly as it had shown up, and Andie shut off the tv, curling her legs underneath her. 

   "Is everything okay?"

   "Nah, it's good," he said, huffing and puffing as the wind continued to whistle through the phone. "One of my unsolveds got a break, and we were able to take the suspect into custody late today. I gotta say, it felt fucking amazing to haul his ass in."

   Her doorbell rang, scaring the shit out of her, and she got up, holding the phone to her ear as she padded through the kitchen. When she peered through the hole, a smile as bright as the sun greeted her, making her whole body feel like it was dipped in lava.

   When she opened the door, Negan dropped his bag on the ground, pulling her phone out of her hand and disconnecting it, setting it on the little table and kicking the door shut behind him as he kissed her.

   "You asshole," she breathed, linking her arms around his neck as he hoisted her up, leaning her against the wall. "I thought you were still in Atlanta."

   "Drove like a bat outta hell to get here," he said, kissing the underside of her jaw, pressing her into the plaster. He smelled delicious, like fresh lime and bergamot, making her head spin with the heat of his body and the feel of stubble across her skin. "Mind if I bunk here tonight?"

   "I'll think about it," she teased, easing herself down to the ground, and taking him by the hand, grabbing another wine glass as they passed through the kitchen to the living room. Before she could even set it down, he had her by the waist, turning her to attack her neck again.

   Their movements were fumbling as she tried to remove his jacket and he slipped her shirt over her head, getting it caught briefly in her hair. Andie was only wearing a pair of shorts, and they were yanked down her hips before Negan was even out of the leather coat, forcing her back towards the couch. 

   Perching on the edge of the cushion, she undid his belt, anxious to have him nude in front of her, and she unzipped his pants, kneading his ass over the material as he shucked his shirt, tossing it behind him. After he kicked off his boots, he let the jeans drop, and she palmed him through his cotton briefs, licking her lips. 

   "You came prepared," she said, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned forward, licking the skin just above his waistband, inhaling the musky cologne scent that he must have applied everywhere.

   "I missed you, Detective," he admitted, cradling the back of her head, letting his tip back when she lowered the briefs, stepping out of them discreetly when they hit the carpet. The fact that he was still calling her that made her flush with desire, some weird kink that she just discovered, and she thought briefly about handcuffing him, tossing that into the pile of things to try with him at some later date.

   As soon as she opened her mouth, he pushed his way in, bowing over her to undo her bra, and she let him get it off of her as he pumped slowly into her mouth, a deep rumble forming at the base of his throat. 

   "Fuck, not too fast," he ordered, fisting her hair as he set the pace, moving in and out, his lips slightly parted as she swirled her tongue around the head, cupping him with her palm. 

   After a dozen or so thrusts, he pulled himself free, and Andie got to her feet, removing her panties as he sat down on the couch, and she straddled him once he had a condom on, sinking down torturously slow, only hitting the base when Negan took her by the waist and practically slammed her down, using his teeth to suck her nipple into his mouth.

   "God," she sighed, resting her forehead on the top of his hair, gyrating in a circle as he bounced up into her. 

   "No, Negan," he reminded her, using his hand to spread her cheeks, lifting her up and down, hitting just the right spot, making her speechless as she felt the warmth building after only a few minutes. If every time they fucked was going to be this good, she didn't see how she'd ever be able to stop. It wasn't just because he was gorgeous. It stemmed from how he made her feel, physically and mentally. When they were joined, it felt like she was the most important person in the world, alive only because he made it that way.

   Clenching around him, she came suddenly without warning, whimpering into his mouth, her tongue grazing his as the ache intensified, going nearly limp as he used her, holding her up until he slammed his pelvis one final time with a grunt, whispering her name.

   She got exactly ten seconds reprieve before she was unceremoniously tossed onto the other cushion as Negan sprang from the couch, reaching down for his jeans.

   "What the fuck?" he roared as her heart started to race. "There's someone looking in the window."

   Scrambling for her clothes, she nearly passed out when she saw a pale face and wide eyes peering into the corner window, unable to make out who it was. It sent skittery fear across her skin as Negan took off with his jeans unbuttoned, streaking for the door. With his shirt thrown over her head, she went after him, running barefoot into the night and around the side of the townhouse, skidding to a stop as he slammed the person up against the brick.

   "You sick fuck," he bellowed, halfway into the bushes as she crept closer, rushing towards him once she realized who it was.

   "Negan, stop," she screeched, grabbing for his arm and digging her nails in, but he was crazed, a look so scary on his face that she froze for a moment. "Negan, I know him."

   It took a second for the words to sink in, and though he didn't let him go, Negan turned his head, fixing her in a glare that would've made her shrink back if she was anyone else.

   "Pete!"

   In the distance, they could hear a woman calling, and Andie tried once again to wedge herself in between Negan and Pete, the rambling, terrified man that was peeking through her windows.

   "It's okay," she tried again, using the calmest voice she had, placing her hand on Negan's cheek. "This is Pete. He lives in the townhouse behind me."

   "He's a fucking peeping Tom," Negan hissed, bracing Pete with his forearm, but Andie shook her head rapidly.

   "He was in an accident, Negan. He's got brain damage."

   Pete was babbling incoherently, rocking his head back and forth, his whole body shaking when Negan finally let him go as a young woman with messed-up brown hair and a worried expressing came rounding the back of the neighboring townhouse.

   "Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she said, rushing towards them as Pete slumped against the wall. "I don't know how he got out. I only left him for a few minutes to check on the kids. Pete, you know you're not supposed to go out of the house."

   Jessie Anderson had been given a shit lot in life. When her husband Pete was in the accident, they lost nearly everything, including their insurance. With two young kids to take care of, she also had the primary responsibility of taking care of her now-addled husband, who was harmless, if not a little prone to wandering off, though he never seemed to do so at night. 

   When Andie and the neighbors became aware of what she was dealing with, they'd all chipped in to get her some help in the form of a daytime aide that could keep an eye on him while she cared for her kids and got her chores done. 

   "In and out, in and out," Pete babbled in a singsong voice, turning back towards the window that he'd been staring through. "The men go in and out." 

   He kept pointing towards the window, to which he'd clearly seen Negan and Andie having sex, and she was humiliated since he kept inferring to what they were doing in plain sight of him. 

   "Pete, please," Jessie took his hand, trying to guide him away, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "We need to go home. You can't be out here at night, and we can't look through other people's windows."

   Lightning fast, Pete grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly as Negan lurched forward.

   "The men go in and out," he said desperately, his eyes terrified. "In and out, in and out."

   Obviously, what he'd seen had traumatized him, and Negan pried him off of her as Jessie started to cry in earnest.

   "Go inside," Negan ordered her as her mouth dropped open. "I'll help her get him home."

   They got Pete turned around, though he kept turning his head back to shout 'in and out' at her until he was out of sight. 

   Andie started shivering, the sudden realization that she was out in the dark with nothing more than Negan's shirt on, and she hustled back inside, getting her clothes back on in the downstairs bathroom. 

   Pete was never agitated, even with the damage that he'd incurred. Confused? Yes. But never upset in all the times that she'd interacted with him, and she wondered why seeing her and Negan together had unhinged him so much. 

   When Negan came back, she was sitting on the couch, still shaky, and she handed him his shirt as he paced the living room. He wasn't as irate, but clearly bothered by what had happened, and he finally planted himself in the middle of the room with his arms crossed.

   "That guy is fucked up."

   It didn't sound mean, but it was obviously an insult. At least, Andie took it that way, and she stared him down.

   "He's brain damaged."

   "I understand that, but chanting about all of the men you've brought back here."

   Ahh, there it was. The main reason he was still pissed off, and she stood up, going toe-to-toe with him, all of the earlier affection she'd felt gone.

   "I haven't ever brought any man here, you condescending dick," she poked him in the chest as his eyebrows rose, tuning her out as he strode towards the window, looking out into the darkness. "You're the only man that's been in my house since I moved here three years ago, so shove your chauvinism up your ass, you manwhore."

   "Andie, shut up," he shouted suddenly, making her stop in her tracks. He was looking the window up and down, and when he turned around, his face was ashen. 

   Using one finger, he lifted the window open, shutting his eyes in acknowledgment of what Pete was trying to tell them. While Andie held her hands up, he walked to the other window, which was still locked. 

   "Someone's been coming into your house," Negan said, sounding angry, dismal, and afraid all at once. "Go get your bag and then go next door and get Daryl."

   "Negan, what-"

   "Andie, I'm not joking. We need to take fingerprints right fucking now. So, go."

   He was both a detective and her lover, and the order was bourne from both, and for once, she didn't argue, going to her closet and bringing him back her bag that was filled with forensic supplies. Negan waved her away and she walked towards the door on auto-pilot, the realization of what he said just starting to hit her. 

   By the time she knocked on Daryl's door, she was shaking uncontrollably, looking around wildly into the dark as she imagined eyes watching her everywhere. Daryl opened it up with a sour look until he saw the state she was in, and he rushed towards her, not resisting as she dragged him through the landscaping to her house. 

   He breezed past her into the living room, and she felt like her legs were turning to jelly as she joined them, sitting on the couch as a dull roar started in her ears.

   Someone had been in her house. In her personal space, maybe more than once. A violation that she didn't even know was occurring, and she buried her head in her hands, letting the roar take over until she felt warm, gentle fingers on her neck.

   When she lifted her head, Negan was kneeling in front of her, using soothing movements on her skin.

   "I want you to pack a bag, sugar. You're not staying here until we figure out what's going on, okay?"

   "But-"

   "Hey," he used his most silky voice, trying to project authority and calmness, and he kissed her softly on the lips. "It's going to be fine. Daryl and I are taking care of everything. I'm going to go upstairs with you and you're going to get your stuff. Then we're getting you out of here."

   In a daze, she stood up, clinging to Negan's hand, the wine long forgotten on the table. Daryl was dusting the window for fingerprints, and they were showing up everywhere the brush moved, sending a shiver down her spine. They could be hers, but she knew they weren't since she never opened the window because it was surrounded by bushes and she didn't want bugs coming in. 

   Up the steps they went, and Daryl gave her a reassuring smile, taking the prints with fresh tape and labeling them. Negan blocked her vision, making her focus on getting up the stairs, and he checked every room thoroughly before letting her into her own.

   Never in her life had she felt like a victim, like one of the many people she'd helped in her career, but here she was, the sickness hanging above her, waiting to envelop her as Negan started opening her drawers looking for certain items, and tossing them on the bed.

   "Hey," he said, getting her to blink, and he tilted her face up at him, barely responding when he kissed her. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?"

   "Yes," she whispered, staring into eyes that were studying her almost lovingly. Protectively.

   "Okay, then pack your bags. We're both getting out of here."  


 


	15. Hola, Papa

   George Saunders was a happy man as he stood inside the airport, watching as United Flight 411A came slowly towards its destination, turning and rolling to a stop. On board was his little girl, here for his wedding. Given her understandable reaction to the news that he was taking the plunge again, he never expected her to actually come, but lo and behold, he'd received a call two days ago from Andie, telling him her flight information and a hesitant request to pick her up. 

   Nothing could dampen the excitement that he was feeling as the doors opened, and he positioned himself against the window, resting one hand on the warm glass, waiting for the first glimpse of the most important person in his life, and his smile faltered briefly when he saw her head pop through the door. She was pale and uncertain as she slowly descended the steps, reaching back and clasping the hand of a good-looking man with dark hair and eyes that swept the area. George knew at once that the guy was a fellow cop, and he felt a bubble of disappointment in his gut. After what she went through with Shane, the last thing he wanted was for his daughter to get involved with another brother in blue.

   Still, he'd spent a lifetime covering up all traces of emotion, and when they were swept through the revolving door, she spied him immediately, and he threw out his arms in welcome, enveloping her in a hug as the stranger hung back a few feet.

   "I'm so glad you came, Poodle," he said warmly, kissing her on the cheek, fighting the urge to as who the man was and what was wrong with her. He knew her well. Knew that the subtle creases around her eyes meant that she was worried. The tension in her shoulders, the way she tilted her head to the side. Something was going on, and George Saunders would find out what. He'd take care of it.

   "Dad, I want you to meet someone, and I need you to be on your best behavior," she said in a low voice, reaching back for the dark-haired man, who stepped forward with an easy smile. "George Saunders, this is Negan. Negan, allow me to introduce you to my dad."

   Negan. As in _the_ Negan. The one he'd heard stories about for ten years. The one he'd warned her to stay away from. 

   "Nice to meet you," he said, masking the anger he was feeling, sticking out his hand and shaking Negan's, using a firm grip, one that said, 'you and I will be speaking later."

   "It's great to meet you, too, sir," Negan told him, letting George overpower his grip. Smart guy.

   "Welcome to Mexico," George announced, plastering a genial grin on his face. "Let's get your bags and we can get on the road. We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us, but the scenery is gorgeous."

   Forty-five minutes later, they were driving along the coast towards home, and he was playing chauffeur as Andie and Negan huddled together in the back seat of his convertible. His eagle eyes didn't miss the way that Andie curled up against his side, nor the way that Negan placed a protective hand on her knee, going no higher than that, surely aware that George was watching. 

   With the azure water and sky on the left of them and the green vegetation on the right, George picked up speed once they were free of the city, enjoying the warm breeze that ruffled his hair, the rays of sun that warmed everything they kissed, and his little girl, whose eyes fluttered shut as she rested in the back. Negan, he'd ignore until he could get a bead on him.

   The other man seemed to feel the same, and he watched in the rearview mirror as he softly kissed the top of Andies's head before turning his attention to the water. 

   They rode in silence for over two hours, almost halfway to Costa Maya when Negan tapped him on the shoulder, getting his attention. 

   "I know you're probably surprised that Andie brought me, and I'd like the chance to get to know you once she's settled."

   George gave him a tight smile, nodding in agreement. "I'd love that."

   Normally, the sound of George Saunders agreeing with you spelled doom, and he'd had the pleasure of watching hundreds of men falter under his scrutiny, but he had to admit that it impressed him that this Negan character felt completely at ease around him. Grudgingly, of course. No matter what this joker had to say, there was no way in hell that he'd ever think this guy was good enough for his only daughter, the one he'd raised alone ever since his wife died.

   As they got closer to home, he felt himself calming down slightly. The scenery helped, as did the fact that Andie would be meeting Gabriella. His beautiful bride. At sixty-six years old, George felt like a teenager again, and it was all due to her. She'd swept into his life and promptly knocked his socks off, and all he wanted was to spend the remainder of his days with her, making her feel like the only woman alive.

   Yes, George Saunders was a happy man. He could only hope that Alexandra was as joyful as he was.

 

 

   Andie startled awake as the car came to a stop, gasping around in confusion at the bright colors and warm breeze. It was only when Negan placed a comforting hand on her cheek that she slumped back.

   "Sorry," she muttered, wiping her face. His white t-shirt was damp where she'd been laying against it, sweating, apparently, but Negan smiled, completely unbothered. 

   "You needed a good nap," he said, stretching his arms after the long ride. "I've been enjoying the scenery."

   With a guilty feeling, she snuck a peek at her dad, who'd turned in his seat to study her. 

   "Sorry, dad. I've been working long hours," she lied, knowing that she wasn't fooling him a bit. "I'm looking forward to spending time with you."

   "Come on, I'll show you around and you can get changed," he said, opening the door. 

   They were parked in front of a stunning, white-stone house that sat only yards from a pristine, white beach. She'd seen dozens of pictures, but they'd done it no justice because it was truly beautiful. 

   "God, no wonder you never come to visit," she muttered, moving stiffly out of the back of the convertible, taking Negan's hand as she stepped down. 

   There was a single palm tree in the middle of the circular driveway, surrounded by cacti and red stones. On either side of the entrance, the Jacaranda was blooming, the sweet scent mixing in with the salty ocean air, and Andie took a moment to just drink it in. The crashing waves, the palm fronds swaying in the breeze. She was leagues away from Atlanta, with all its death and encroaching violence, all leading right to her door. 

   With a hand to her back, Negan carried one of their bags, and her father took the other, leading the way into his house. The foyer led directly into a large living room, where the entire right wall was open to the beach and a cobblestone patio that held furniture and a small dipping pool. 

   After setting their luggage down, he motioned for them to follow him past the colorful couches to the kitchen, which sat just to the right. Inside, a small woman was chopping up fresh fruit, and George went immediately to her side, her eyes lighting up when he kissed her cheek.

   Andie was struck dumb at the sight, the image of her father so affectionate a marked difference from how she usually saw him. Part of the reason was because of how the girl looked. She wasn't the tall, willowy temptress that she imagined. Instead, she was short and a little on the chunky side, with a thick torso and long, black hair. While not ugly by any means, her features bordered on the plain side, with thin lips and a prominent nose. But there was beauty in her eyes, large and brown, and she only had eyes for her dad.

   "You're back," she said in flawless English, giving Andie a brilliant smile as she wiped her hands on a bright green dish towel. "With an extra guest."

   George Saunders put his arm around her waist, walking her over to where Andie and Negan were standing, and he was positively glowing.

   "Gabriella Cortiz," he beamed, "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Andie and her friend Negan. Andie, this is my Gabriella."

   Gabriella didn't reach out to shake her hand. Instead, she pulled Andie into a fierce hug before kissing both of her cheeks, her lips soft against her skin. 

   "Welcome, Andie," she said, taking a step back to drink her in. "I've heard so much about you, and you are just lovely."

   "Thank you," Andie smiled, feeling both off-kilter and strangely charmed by the woman who defied all her expectations. "It's great to be here. Congratulations."

   "And...Negan, was it?" she reached up and pulled him down towards her, bestowing him with a kiss as well. "Please make yourself at home. We're so happy to have you."

   Negan gave her a charming smile, stepping back when Gabriella hustled back behind the counter to chop up some mango. 

   "You guys have probably had a hell of a trip," she said, glancing up. "Darling, why don't you show them to their room so that they can relax for a bit? I'll get this taken care of and we can have dinner in an hour."

   Her father took them back to the door, grabbing their bags, and he led them up the tiled steps to the second floor and across the open hallway that looked down over the living room to the first door, waving them in.

   The guest bedroom was furnished in bright blue and white, with a balcony that looked over the ocean. It was equipped with a private bathroom, and another one of those walls that opened up, allowing the standalone bathtub to be exposed to the fresh air. 

   "Why don't you two take your time," he said smoothly, giving Andie a wink that made her want to shrivel up. "Come on down whenever you're ready."

   With that, he shut the door, leaving the two of them alone as she stared out at the ocean. 

   "Well, she is not at _all_ what I expected," Negan murmured, setting their suitcases on the bed and unzipping them. "Were you?"

   "No," Andie replied in a subdued voice. "I was expecting a harlot that was after my dad's money, not some...some girl that looks like he hung the goddamned moon."

   Negan paused as she walked over to him, leaning her forehead against his chest, and he rubbed her back.

   "You need to relax, Detective," he said, kissing the top of her head. "We've got motion-sensitive cameras in your house and Daryl's monitoring everything."

   "I don't know if I can," she said, looking up at him, catching the frown on his face before he covered it up with a smile. "Some freak was in my house, Negan. Everywhere. There were fingerprints on my dresser, in my closet."

   A shudder ripped through her as she thought about the violation of her privacy, and he took her by the shoulders, shaking her a little. 

   "Whoever it is, we're gonna find him. We left your window unlocked for a reason. If he shows up again, Daryl will be there, and he's not going to let him get away, I promise. Now," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "We've got an hour before dinner. Maybe we should take a bath."

   Before she could argue, he swept her up and carried her into the bathroom, opening the sliding doors and letting the breeze and his lips wash away her worries.   
  


 

   "Mr. Smith?"

   The nervous young man held out the plastic bag, looking around warily at the overgrown grass and the chipped paint as he stood in the doorway, holding out a crisp fifty dollar bill, exchanging it for the food.

   "I don't think I have change for this," the young man stuttered, nervous about being on this side of town. He'd been robbed twice, and it was only the promise of cash on delivery that brought him here for this dropoff. 

   "Keep it," he said, shutting the door in the young man's face. 

   David Smith. That was the name he'd gone by for over ten years, changing it after Mother died. It was too painful, too much of an open wound to use his last name. Plus it made him more untraceable. 

   Once he'd received his inheritance, he'd transferred all of his money out of the bank that his family had always used, setting up an off-shore account in Switzerland, dealing with his financiers over the phone. He was meticulous about his money, one of the many things he'd studied over the years, along with computer science and business. 

   He kept track of any interest that he earned, using only that to live. Each week he'd take out whatever he'd accumulated, either paying cash for whatever he needed or putting it on a prepaid bank card. 

   David Smith paid his taxes. He rented shitty houses where no one would do a credit check, and he changed cars every month, buying them from trusted criminals, ones who'd never rat him out in exchange for a small fee, of course. It kept him off the grid and ensured that he'd never end up on the radar of any government agencies.

   Because of this, he could move through life like a ghost, touching people without them knowing unless he wanted it to be so. 

   He had the existence he wanted, except for two things. Andie and Negan. His feelings for them were complicated, vaulting from love to hate, especially for Negan, the man who destroyed his mother, in turn decimating his life. Yet, he desired the man, he wanted to feel what Mother felt when she was with him. 

   He needed to know what it was like in Negan's orbit, what it was about him that entranced women and made them fall for him. In David Smith's eyes, Negan was both a rival and a goal. A blooming obsession, and the fact that he was with Andie was icing on the cake. 

   After finishing his meal, he roamed around the living room, itching to drive past Andie's house to catch a glimpse of the two of them, and after it got dark, he set out, moving leisurely down the street. Negan's Camaro was parked in front just behind Andie's car, the porch light on and the living room shades drawn.

   David Smith was always careful, always methodical, but it couldn't hurt to just peek in the window, could it?

   With a smile and a racing heart, he rounded the corner, shutting off the engine. 

   No, it couldn't hurt. Especially because they didn't know they were being watched.

   David Smith was too smart to get caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Andie and Negan get a mini-vacation from Atlanta. And Papa Saunders will be gettin'to the bottom of it shortly...


	16. Brandy Alexandra

   Andie rose with her plate in her hand, meaning to clear the table, but Gabriella snatched it away, patting her forearm.

   "You need to visit with your father," she smiled, inclining her head towards Negan. "He and I will clean up."

   Negan looked surprised by this news, but he gathered up the other dishes as her dad stood and stretched, gesturing for her to join him out on the patio.

   Once they were seated with the lapping sound of the waves surrounding them and a good glass of wine, George reached out and ruffled her hair like he used to do when she was a kid.

   "Well? What do you think of her?"

   Most of the dinner conversation revolved around him and Gabriella, who seemed wise beyond her years, which were twenty-eight to be exact. True to form, he had been wrong about her age, as well as the fact that she was a waitress.

   "A waitress?" she'd hooted, playfully smacking George's shoulder. "No, I own a restaurant."

   A very successful restaurant, one that was booked nearly every day, since people came from miles around to sample Gabriella's cooking. She was heavily into fusion, mixing Japanese with traditional Mexican cooking, though she'd made them salmon for dinner with a mango chutney.

   Despite her initial misgivings, Gabriella was growing on her, and she supposed if her dad was going to take the plunge again, it should be with a woman like her. One that could take what her father could dish out, and volley it right back to him.

   "I like her," Andie said, looking him in the eye so that he'd know she was telling the truth. Both of them were taking on a reddish hue, thanks to the setting sun. It loomed large behind them, turning the sea to a bubbling impression of lava. "She's not like I'd expected."

   "Good," he announced with an air of finality, like that was all he needed to hear. "Now onto you."

   Her antennae were on alert as he took a sip of wine, crossing his legs as the sound of glasses clattering from inside the house mingled with the waves, a not unpleasant sound.

   "Andie-"

   "Dad, you want me to respect your choices, and I need the same from you," she cut him off as he looked away. "I know what you've heard about Negan, and it was mostly true. But that's not all of him. He's smart, and he's focused, and we have more in common than you think."

   "So, tell me."

   And she did. She explained about how they'd gotten to know each other, though she never brought up Lucille's name, only that he'd been married and that his wife had died. That they cared about each other. That it was nothing like what she'd had with Shane, even after such a short time.

   "It's the first time in a long time that I've wanted to be around another human being so continuously, dad. He may be a cop like Shane, but that's about all they have in common. I'm doing more than just working, now. I'm enjoying my life."

   "Then why did you look terrified when you got off of the plane, Andie? If it wasn't about him, what is it about?"

   "It's nothing."

   "Don't lie to me, Alexandra Nicole."

   Fuck. He was using her full name. She knew that with one phone call, Rick would tell him everything. It was best to just come clean.

   "Fine," she sighed, downing her wine under her father's disapproving stare. "I'll tell you, but I'm telling you as my dad, not as a Lieutenant, are we clear?"

   "Young lady-"

   "Dad, I'm serious," she snapped, watching warily as his nostrils flared out, but he set his glass down, giving her his full attention.

   "Okay."

   "A few nights ago, Negan was over, and we were in the living room when he noticed someone watching us through the window," she explained, glossing over what they were actually doing. "He went outside and cornered the guy, which turned out to be my neighbor Pete."

   "That's the guy that was, uh, in the car accident, right?" he asked, the wheels turning in his head as he tried to anticipate where this was going.

   "That's him," she confirmed, glancing into the living room to make sure that Negan wasn't in earshot. "Somehow, Pete had gotten out, and he kept saying something about the men going in and out of my house. He was repeating like a mantra, trying to get me to understand. I assumed that he was talking about Negan, since he's the only one I'd ever had over at my townhouse."

   "Okay..."

   "Negan, of course, thought that he was talking about other men, but once I explained it, it hit him."

   "What did?"

   "He figured out that my window was unlocked, and Pete had witnessed someone coming and going in my house."

   George shot out of his chair, his hands clenching into fists as he walked around in circles, muttering under his breath. She knew he wasn't going to sit back down, so she kept explaining.

   "Negan and Daryl were able to get fingerprints, and they were all over the house."

   Even now, it still gave her the chills, and she rubbed her arms rapidly, catching her dad's eye.

   "We called Rick, and he came over to help investigate. They ran them through AFIS, but there were no hits, so Negan set up motion-sensitive cameras throughout the house, and Daryl is watching the place. He didn't want me staying there until we catch this guy, and he trusts Daryl. So do I."

   George perched on the edge of the fire pit, taking her hands in his, genuine worry in his face. The thought of his little girl in any sort of unseen danger already kept him up at night. It was bad enough that she'd followed in his footsteps, but for the boogeymen to follow her home was borderline unthinkable.

   "What can I do? Who can I call? Do I need to come back home?"

   "Negan, Rick, and Daryl are on top of it," she assured him, squeezing his hands. "He won't let anything happen to me. I don't know if it's just some random weirdo, or if it's related to the Heartbreaker case, but I'll be monitored until we catch one or both of them."

   That wasn't good enough for him, but she pulled him slightly forward, hugging him, the smell of his cologne taking her back in time to when he was the only man in her life, the only one she could ever depend on.

   Until now.

   "He's special, Dad, so go easy on him."

   He didn't answer, he just chuckled uneasily and kissed her cheek.

 

 

     
   It was after dark when Negan ventured out to the patio, where torches were lit and the pool glowed bright blue, as smooth as glass despite the constant breeze. George Saunders was sitting by the fire, watching the flames dance around as he balanced a glass of liquor on his knee.

   Andie was in the house with Gabriella, the two of them discussing the upcoming wedding, and it had nearly bored him to tears, so he'd slipped away as the young woman asked to take Andie shopping the following morning for a dress.

   Negan knew George only by reputation, and it was fearsome. In the thirty years that he'd been a lieutenant, there were few men to cross him, and even fewer that dared to do it more than once. And for some reason, he wanted this man's approval, which would be hard to get. Tougher than nails, Andie's father didn't care for him at all, and he was obvious about it.

   "Mind if I join you?" he said, gesturing to the empty chair next to him, and George nodded once, his eyes never leaving the fire. "I can't listen to any more wedding chat."

   It didn't even draw a smile, and Negan stretched his legs out, tired from the flight and sitting in the cramped back seat of the convertible.

   Lucille's mother and father had never cared for him, not even when they saw how much she'd loved him, at least at the beginning. When he'd asked for her hand in marriage, thinking that he'd do it the old-fashioned way, Lucille's father had laughed in his face, making him feel like a fool.

   "You'll do it whether I want you to or not, but I'll never give you my blessing," he'd said, sniffing dismissively. "My daughter is too good for you, and deep down, you know it as well as I do."

   It had taken everything in him not to strike the older man, instead drawing himself up to his full height, towering over her dad, daring to say to him what he never could to his own.

   "Bullshit. She loves me and you can't stand it that she didn't end up with an inbred, mealy-mouthed, country club eunuch like you. I'll make her happy. So fucking happy that it'll be acid in your mouth, old man."

   In hindsight, it wasn't his proudest moment, but it felt damned good to see the shock and fear in his eyes. After that day, her father had never so much as glanced in his direction, though he knew that they constantly harped on Lucille, though in subtle ways. Like the angel she was, she never told them about him cheating on her, but it didn't matter in the end.

   After her funeral, her father only said a few words to him, and it was only to tell him that it was Negan's fault that his only child was dead.

   "I hope you live with that every day for the rest of your miserable life, you cocksucker."

   Lucille's mother gasped, the handkerchief that she'd been dabbing her eyes with fluttering to the ground next to the open grave as she was dragged away towards their limo, never to lay eyes on him again.

   Since then, he hadn't been in a relationship, so this was his first interaction with a parent in years, and it wasn't starting off well.

    _Calm the fuck down_ , he told himself as George cleared his throat, deciding to start off with a compliment.

   "Your reputation precedes you, sir. The Atlanta P.D. is collectively a fan of yours."

   "And yours precedes you as well," he said, finally looking him in the eye. "I've heard about your exploits for years."

   Oh, shit.

   "I don't make excuses for how I've lived my life up until now," Negan said, the simmering anger of a lifetime of discrimination hovering in the air. "But that has nothing to do with how I feel about your daughter."

   "Andie's a smart girl," he conceded, taking a sip of whatever he was drinking. "But she's been hurt deeply in the past, and I'll be damned if I'll sit back and watch it happen again. She's not a plaything, understand?"

   "Sir-"

   George leaned forward suddenly, lowering his voice, not that the girls could hear him, anyway.

   "She obviously sees something in you, detective, so I'm trusting her judgment. If she says there's more to you than what I've heard, I'll believe her, son. I've done my fair share of catting around," he said with a small smile. "It just happens to be different when it comes to my daughter."

   "I understand completely." And he did. God knows if he had a daughter and she came home with a guy like him, he'd have reservations. Big fucking reservations. "But I care about her, more than I ever thought possible in such a short time. She's...amazing."

   George stood up and walked into the house without a word, and he sat there in a stupor, at a loss for words. It was a foreign feeling to him, needing reassurance from this man, the need for him to know that he had no intentions of fucking this up. Normally, Negan didn't give a fuck what anyone thought. But this Saunders family? It was a head trip.

   A few minutes later, Andie's father returned with two glasses, a cask of brandy, and two cigars. The liquid shifted around in the glass as he poured them each a bit, handing him a fat Cohiba to smoke, the knot in his chest lessening slightly.

   "So, Negan," George pulled his chair closer as he lit up the cigar for him. "Tell me about this fucker that's been sneaking in my daughter's house."

 

 

   Just after midnight, Negan came stumbling into the guest room, running into the dresser, jolting Andie out of a sound sleep.

   "Fuck," he muttered, rubbing his knee. "Sorry."

   Squinting at the clock, she watched him as he struggled out of his shirt, kicking off his shorts and crawling into the bed, coating her with alcohol breath and the smell of smoke, and she knew exactly what he'd been up to.

   Nerves had kept her from checking up on him while he was out with her dad, and after a few hours of hovering around in the house, she'd gone to bed. Other than a few full-throated laughs from the two of them, she had no idea what they'd done out there, but if George Saunders had offered him a cigar and brandy, then Negan had gotten his stamp of approval.

   "Mmmm," he growled, sidling up next to her as she turned to her side. "This is nice."

   "I bet."

   "I mean this whole thing, sugar," he slurred, easing his hand along her waist, his fingers playing with her panties. "The house, the weather, you. It's all good."

   The urge to giggle overwhelmed her, but she kept a lid on it, placing her hand over his to still his fingers.

   "Thank you for coming with me," she said quietly as he breathed softly against her neck, sending out more alcohol fumes. "I know a trip together couldn't have been easy to do since we just started dating, and having to meet my dad at the same time. It's...it means a lot to me."

   "He likes me," Negan said dreamily. "He kept calling me son."

   There was such an undercurrent of happiness to his words that it pierced her heart and caused her eyes to tear up. He'd told her that Lucille's parents hated him, though he'd tried to fluff it off that he didn't care, but she knew it had to have eaten away at him, especially since his own father was such a bastard. She positively ached with sadness for him at that moment.

   Rolling over under his arm, she decided to brave the overwhelming smell and kiss him on the lips as he drifted off.

   "I like you, too."

   Andie was sure that what she felt was more than like. It was dangerously close to love, and it made her leave the safety of his arms once he fell asleep, spurring her out onto the balcony as he rolled onto his back.

   The night air was still warm, though she had goosebumps, and she chastised herself internally for thinking that her father had lost his mind when he'd fallen head over heels for Gabriella so quickly when she was doing the same damned thing.

   It was after one in the morning when she finally went back to the bed, listening to the waves as Negan reached for her in his sleep, and she laid her head on his chest, letting the steady thrum of his heart lull her back to sleep.

 

 

     
   Three thousand miles away, David Smith was in a rage, smashing anything that he could get his hands on in his house.

   Hours earlier, he'd gone to Andie's house to see her and Negan, needing to lay eyes on them to quell the urges that were reaching a fever pitch inside him. The ones that wanted him to do those things, those delicious things that gave him pleasure.

   He'd parked a few streets away, keeping to the darkened areas, away from streetlights and porch ones, a spirit of the night. Both of their cars had been in front of the townhouse, so he knew they were home. Through the back of the property, he'd ducked down, easing his way between the bushes, knowing that if the lights were on, they were probably downstairs, maybe curled up on the couch together watching a movie, or engaging in a spirited conversation.

   But the living room was empty. There was no sign of the two of them, and his fingers ghosted over the window pane, his heart telling him to go in, to see if they were upstairs. The thought of seeing them together in bed was enticing, if not extremely dangerous. And David Smith wasn't stupid. He could get caught, and it would all be over.

   So, swallowing down his disappointment, he crept back into the yard, not knowing that there was someone else out there until he heard the creak of a twig snapping behind him. Like a snake, he struck out, his fist hitting bone and the crunching crack of something breaking sounding in his ear.

   He didn't stop to look back, he just ran. Run away, run away. Live to fight another day.

   Doubling around in a loop, he made it back to his car, starting it up and taking off as he pressed on the gas, his heart racing as much as it did when he was breaking a fresh heart.

   Was it Negan? Andie? Someone else? He didn't know. He just ran. By the time he made it home, the fear was replaced by anger. He'd been thwarted. Worse, he'd been seen.

   David Smith didn't take chances. He didn't get caught.

   Until he almost did.

   Now he had to figure out who it was and take care of them. David Smith was a problem solver.

   But first, he thought as he took a deep breath, looking over the destruction he'd caused, he needed the release.

   Flipping open his laptop, he checked his account, counting out how much money he could take out tomorrow. With a smile, he planned out the following evening in his mind. Getting the release would clear his head, and there would be no more mistakes going forward.

   He would make sure of that.


	17. I Caught a Case of the Feels

   Andie stepped to the side as Gabriella's mother came over to straighten the strap of her wedding dress, clucking at her in Spanish as she fought back tears.

   The sun was getting ready to set, and her father's wedding was close to happening. Andie had spent the day with Gabriella, helping to get the food and decorations up as her dad and Negan constructed the tents on the beach and set up the chairs.

   What resulted was a picturesque setting, perfect for evening nuptials. George and Gabriella were going to be saying their vows near the water, underneath a trellis that was covered with flowers and ivy, celebrating after with dinner, drinks, and a local band.

   After everything was done, George took Negan golfing for the afternoon with Gabriella's blessing. Andie thought it was a little ridiculous for them to take off, but it wasn't her day, though she was pleased to see that the two men were getting along. Negan would never admit it when he was sober, but having George's approval was important to him after years of not getting respect from Lucille's father or his own.

   Andie was happy about it as well, since her dad had never liked Shane, and it had put a strain on both relationships. She ended up not talking to her father for years, only reconnecting with him after Shane had left for Virginia. If he was going to support this burgeoning partnership, it meant the world to her.

   Negan and George had taken their wedding clothes with them, so she wouldn't see them until it was time to walk down the aisle arm-in-arm with George at his request. 

   "Someday, I hope to walk you down," he'd said around a lump in his throat aft er he'd asked to escort her down the aisle, touching his forehead with hers before he left with Negan, who was watching them somberly.

   "Aye, are you nervous?" Gabriella's mother asked her, pulling her into the gaggle of family members that were making the final preparations. 

   "No," Andie assured her, eyeing the simple white dress that adorned her future stepmother, a crown of flowers sitting on the top of her head. The woman, whom she'd first thought of a plain, was absolutely radiating love and joy. If it was up to her, she'd already be under the trellis, waiting for George. "I'm just...this came together so well."

   "Love makes it easy," Martina mused, sounding thoughtful. "It isn't always so, that's true. But when it's right, it's right. There's doesn't have to always be drama. Remember that, nieta."

   With a kiss and an affectionate pat to her behind, Martina sent Andie down the steps to greet her father, who was waiting in the living room. Soft music was playing, just an acoustic guitar as guests took their seats, about thirty or so people, mostly Gabriella's family and friends. 

   As she descended to the floor, she took her father's arm, closing her eyes when he gave her a kiss on her cheek, telling her that this was the happiest he was ever going to be, and they walked slowly between the chairs towards the water, where the priest was waiting with a smile.

   Negan was sitting in the front row, but his expression was unreadable to her, some sort of shield that he'd drawn up, and she let her eyes drift away from him as she stood next to her father, waiting for Gabriella to make her way.

   Three of her sisters came out, each with an attendant, and all of them were wearing soft turquoise dresses, carrying pink bouquets, and as the guitarist started to play the wedding march, everyone stood up to watch Gabriella as she came into view, walking with her parents. All except for Negan, whose eyes were on her, intensely brown as she stared back, pinned under the weight of his gaze.

   It was like all of the air had been sucked out of her, and she couldn't move, couldn't think. All she knew was that with his hair gently mussed from the sea breeze and the light bronzing of his skin from being outside, he was the most gorgeous thing she'd ever seen. For a moment, she forgot why she was there until Gabriella's father kissed her on the cheek, allowing her to take George's hand, and she tore her eyes away to watch the happy couple take their vows, all the while feeling Negan's full attention on her.

   The wedding crowd was raucous, dancing and cheering as George led his new wife in their first kiss, tipping her back as he planted a generous smooch on her lips, making Andie want to hide her eyes. She was happy for her dad, but she didn't want to see him in a full-on makeout session with Gabriella. Everyone else seemed to love it, though, and she jumped when she felt stubble brush her bare shoulder, nearly spilling her champagne down her dress.

   "You're a cruel fucking woman, Detective."

   She could smell lime and bergamot, and she could feel his chest pressing up against her back, but she didn't turn, instead leaning back and trusting that he'd wrap his arms around her, which he did.

   "Why? What did I do?" she sipped on her drink, her head tilting back so that it was resting against his collarbone, though that wasn't the only hard bone she was feeling, and it made her shiver.

  "Showing up the bride on her wedding day," he scolded her as he ran his fingers up and down her arms. They began to sway as the music segued to a slow song, and Negan plucked the glass from her hand, setting it on a nearby table as she turned around, having her first interaction with him all day. "No one should be outshined so fucking badly."

   Draping her hands around his neck, Andie gave him a crooked smile, using her fingernails to brush the back of his neck as other couples joined them underneath the lights of the tent.

   "You're not so bad yourself," she murmured, rubbing her nose against his. "Tanned and relaxed suits you."

   "Do you think your dad would mind if we just stayed here?"

   It made her giddy to think about just chucking her life in Atlanta and staying where it was easy and they had no responsibilities. Laying on the beach all day and spending all night wrapped up in Negan's arms, letting him have his way with her. God, could life get any better?

   "I'm sure he doesn't want to spend his first year as a newlywed in a sex battle with his little girl," she taunted him, pressing her chest in provocatively, rubbing it subtly back and forth as they moved, the sensation making her nipples hard. 

   "So fucking dirty," he growled, edging her towards the beach, where it was dark and less populated. George and Gabriella were so wrapped up in themselves that they didn't notice her and Negan slipping out with a bottle of tequila. Once they were on the soft sand, he handed her the liquor, bending down and undoing the straps of her heels, chucking them over his shoulder and leading her down the shore, using the moonlight as a guide. 

   When the tent was just a small, glowing square, they came to a stop, slumping down against a sand dune. The air was thick with salt and moisture, and Andie took a second to watch the moonlight bouncing off of the waves as they crested, prolonging the inevitable moment when Negan would kiss her, taking away every other memory of this night.

 

 

   As Andie came walking down the makeshift aisle, holding her dad's arm, Negan almost stood up and went to her, the desire to say and do the most romantic and ribald things to her making him break out into a cold sweat. His vision had tunneled, and all he could see was her.

   She was wearing a pink dress, one of those off the shoulder things, and it brought out the flush in her cheeks and the curve of her body, a little slit showing a hint of her thigh with every other step she took. Her hair was in that wavy style again, and she had a tropical flower tucked just behind her ear, but it was her smile that was the most stunning thing about her right then.

   None of the fear and stress that she'd been under for the last few days was evident, and he didn't have the heart to tell her what he'd been keeping from her. It could wait, he supposed, the discovery of a stain in her guest room, one he knew well as a man. Fuck, he'd made stains like that when he'd jacked off carelessly.

   Definitely not the call from Daryl while he was on the golf course with George, telling him that the fucker had shown up, but slipped from his grasp when he'd clocked the redneck in the nose, breaking it. And absolutely not the fact that the sick bastard was most likely the Heartbreaker since he'd been wearing a baseball cap. Daryl couldn't be sure, but he fit the description from what he could see in the dark. 

   Better to let her enjoy the next few days, and tell her when they had to go back to reality. He'd shoulder the knowledge for now. He and George, who'd made a phone call to a few of his retired buddies that were now going to be watching Andie at all times. From a respectable distance, of course. 

   Right now, he had her to himself, thousands of miles away from Atlanta, straddling his waist as he looked up at her in the dark, feeling her warm thighs around his and her fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt. 

   "I'm gonna need your mouth around my cock soon, detective," he blurted out crassly, his pants brushing painfully against his dick as she slapped him on the cheek, grinding herself on him at the same time.

   "I'll get there when I get there," she opened his shirt, running her nails over his chest, pinching his nipples as his hips jerked up in warning. The dark part of him wanted to rip the dress off of her and parade her in front of the people laughing and clapping hundreds of feet away, to slam her down on one of the tables and pound her so roughly that it would make them gasp in shock. 

   The urge was tamped down when Andie bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, licking at it and moaning into his mouth. She left a wet trail that cooled in the ocean breeze, down his neck and the center of his chest until she backed up and unbuttoned his pants. In a haze, he lifted up his hips so that she could get them off, not even trying to keep the sand from flying all over. 

   Risking a thrashing, he forced her head down to his throbbing dick, hissing when she opened her lips and ran her tongue from the base to the tip, that same cooling sensation battling with the warmth of her mouth. It was driving him crazy, and he began to perspire, trying to keep from choking her as he thrust up, needing the tightness and the pressure to ease the ache.

   Her head bobbed in time with the waves, both of them moving in and out at the same pace as the need to finish took over along with his hands, holding her head in place as his head fell back, looking up at the stars as he came, the feeling so good, so needed that he actually left his body for a few seconds.   
  
   There was definitely sand in his ass as she came up for air, sitting back on her ankles as he laid there like a beached whale, barely able to keep his eyes open.

   "You look so fucking stupid right now," she teased him, wiping her mouth as he tried to blink at her, but he didn't fucking care. It was worth it to hear Andie laugh, and he managed to pull her on top of him, giving her a sloppy kiss even though he could taste himself. 

   "I don't think Daddy would approve if he saw you in this position."

   "Could you not bring him up right now? It's a mood killer."

   "Understood," he conceded, using his index finger to rub her nipple as she looked him in the eye, her lashes fluttering. "I'll repay the favor after the reception's over. I don't think I can move just yet, though." 

   "Figures," she said, though she didn't sound too pissed, helping him to a sitting position so he could pull his pants back up. He left his shirt unbuttoned because Andie was absently stroking his chest hair and it felt nice. Propping himself back up on the dune, wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, with her red lips and soft smile. He wanted to tell her that she was special, that he hadn't felt this comfortable with someone in years. That he would do anything to keep her safe and make sure that no one ever made her so much as fucking frown, but nothing came out.

   The memories of him screwing up such platitudes with Lucille were haunting him, reminding him that he wasn't romantic. He was crude and common, and when he tried to sound mature and sincere, it only made him look more moronic.

   "What are you thinking about? It looks like smoke is going to start coming out of your ears, you're concentrating so hard."

   He glanced down to her probing eyes, and he plastered a casual grin on his face.

   "Nothing, sugar. Just tryin' to figure out how I'm gonna get all this sand out of my crack."

   She appeared to buy it, shaking her head as they lapsed back into silence, laying together in the warm sand, letting the waves do all of the talking. 

   "We should get back," Andie sat up, fastening his shirt buttons as he shook the sand off of his hands, the tequila forgotten as they fixed up their appearance before slowly walking back towards the tent.

   When they got close enough, he pulled her to a stop, running his hands through her hair, feeling his heart pulsating, both in apprehension and affection, and he let the words slip out before he could think too much about them.

   "I fucking like you, girl. I like you more than my Camaro."

   As soon as he said it, he wanted to dig a hole in the sand and bury himself, knowing that he sounded like an asshole, but she gave him that crooked smile again and kissed the cut she'd made on his lip. 

   "Good," she whispered, walking back to the party as he stood and watched, the warmth in his chest making it hard to breathe.

   He was pretty sure he loved her and he was melan-fucking-choly about it. The last time he fell in love this fast, it ended in death and heartbreak. What were the odds it would work out this time?

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying the fluff at this particular juncture, but poor Negan and Andie won't be able to stay in paradise forever. There is a pesky serial killer that requires their attention at home, and he's gearing up for something...


	18. A Tale of Two Andies

   Cara watched the Mercedes as it drove slowly past for the third time, mentally rolling her eyes as she leaned provocatively against the mailbox, waiting for him to come to a stop.

   Rich guys were the fucking worst. They weren't looking to just get off like the average john. They always came equipped with issues out the ass, whether it was calling her Mommy, or smacking her around in order to get it up. Rough anal sex, or crying in her lap. 

   She put up with it because the money was good, and because Ace always needed his cut. Three hundred a day, minimum. And it had been a slow week, so she was in the hole. Unfortunately, she needed this fare, and she smiled encouragingly as the car made another pass, slowing down a few feet ahead of her and lowering the window. When she walked over and popped her head through, she was mildly surprised at how attractive he was, immediately wondering what kinda kink he had.

   "Hey, sexy," she purred, tilting her chest so that her breasts were front and center. "You lonely?"

   "How much?" he asked, unlocking the door as she slid inside, glancing in the back seat. There was a bottle of wine and a duffel bag, and she gave him a flirty smile.

   "Three-fifty an hour," Cara said, setting her bag down. Her cell phone was strapped to her thigh, and she held her hand over it as he looked her up and down. "I don't do car tricks. Gotta be a hotel or motel, and you drive me back."

   The man reached into the console of his car and pulled out a handful of hundreds, tossing them on her lap as he drove away, and she tucked them into her purse, counting at least ten. 

   Hopefully, he wasn't a biter.

   Ten minutes later, they were at a rundown motel just outside of the city, and he paid the manager for a room at the end, unlocking the key and ushering her inside as he dropped his bag near the table and set the wine down, carrying over a single glass that was covered in white spots. God, she hoped she didn't catch a disease here. 

   The cork came out easily, and he poured her some, filling it all of the way to the lip of the glass and handing it to her. The stuff was primo, and she batted her eyelashes as she drained it quickly, setting her purse aside after grabbing few condoms and tossing them on the bed. 

   While he'd paid for the room, she'd quickly texted Ace to let him know she'd landed a big one, giving him the address of the motel in case this guy got too rough, and now she was ready to earn.

   "So, what's your pleasure, baby?" she purred at him, unzipping the back of her dress as he tilted his head to the side, looking her over from head to toe.

   "I just want to pleasure _you_ ," he said in a smooth voice, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a toned chest. "You remind me of my ex."

    _For fuck's sake_ , Cara thought, mentally willing herself to go along with this. Countless times, she'd ended up with some asshole blubbering while he was fucking her, the tears dripping down onto her chest as he'd moan and groan about some gash that had left him high and dry. 

   "What's your name?" she asked, helping him as his shirt drifted to the floor, licking her lips. At least this one was hot.

   "David," he replied, "but we're not going to use our own names." With a hand to the back of her neck, he directed Cara to the bed, setting her down. "Tonight, your name is Andie."

   Poor Andie, Cara's head told her as he loosened the button on his expensive dress slacks, passing up such a fine specimen. 

   "And I want you to call me Negan."

 

 

     
   The smell of coffee woke her, and Andie splashed her face quickly before trudging down the steps to find Negan wearing swim trunks and nothing else, pouring two cups of coffee. 

   Funnily enough, her dad's wedding gift to her was time. Time alone with Negan.

   After the reception, the two of them had retreated to the guest room, hands and mouths all over each other until a knock at the door made them freeze, and Andie had hurriedly fixed her dress as Negan stepped out onto the balcony, not wanting to face her dad with a raging hard-on.

   She was surprised to see him dressed casually and carrying a suitcase, his face a sight as he watched her straighten her hair. 

   "Oh, Jesus," he muttered, shutting his eyes. "I just wanted to let you know that Gabriella and I are heading out."

   "Heading out? What do you mean?"

   "We're going on a short honeymoon," he told her as she stepped into the hallway. "Three days. The house is yours until we get back. Relax and have fun, Andie. Go swimming. Take a hike. Just...enjoy yourself."

   Andie followed him down to where Gabriella was waiting for him at the door, still wearing her flowers but dressed in a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt, grinning from ear to ear. 

   'Have fun', she mouthed to Andie as the two of them disappeared into the night, departing in a Jeep as she stood there not knowing what to say. Five minutes later, Negan came ambling down, his hand discreetly covering his erection as he scanned the downstairs. 

   "Where did your dad go?"

   Backing away from him, she slipped her dress down her body until it dropped to the floor, leaving her just in her underwear as he advanced towards her looking around angrily.

   "What the fuck are you doing?"

   With a happy screech, she took off towards the pool, jumping in feet first, the cool liquid surrounding her as she hit the bottom, coming up with a gasp to find Negan standing at the edge, torn between arousal and irritation.

   "The house is ours, you sexy fuck," she teased him, splashing him with water. "For three days, so get your ass in here now."

   His face broke out into a smile, and he shucked his clothes before jumping nearly on top of her, removing her panties and thrusting himself inside her against the edge of the pool. Huge puddles of water splashed up as they fucked long and hard, surrounded by the cool blue lights and the ocean sounds, neither of them keeping quiet because there was no one around that could hear them. 

   Jet-skiing, a sunset trip on a sailboat. A full day of just lying on the sand, soaking up everything that the sun had to offer. Never had she been so relaxed in her life. Hours at a time passed without the Heartbreaker entering her thoughts or the intruder in her home. Andie was able to be who she wanted to be, deep down. Fun, and carefree.

   Each night, meals were delivered from Gabriella's restaurant, saving them from having to cook, and every night saw them on a blanket on the beach, sitting around a bonfire as they talked. Shared more than ever. Andie opened up about the loss of her mother, her feelings of abandonment when her dad withdrew from her, preferring to bury his grief in his work and his dick in random women.

   She was both struck and unnerved at how similar Negan and her dad were, though she was able to brush it off, telling herself that she wasn't unconsciously seeking a partner like her father. Sure, they'd both lost their wives and went on years-long whoring sessions.

   But where George was calm and methodical, Negan was fiery and passionate, prone to using profanity and colorful descriptives to get his point across, not that her dad didn't swear. But George was serious, a lifetime of authority driving him, at least until he retired. Negan acted through his emotions, and it spurred her to let herself go a little, to leave her job behind.

   This was their last morning in Mexico, and her dad and Gabriella were due back at any time. Andie sat down at the table as Negan set a mug of coffee in front of her, kissing her softly. He was at least twenty shades tanner than when he'd arrived, and she gave him a sleepy smile, worn out from the night before. 

   "I can't believe you're up before me," she said in a gravelly voice, sipping the coffee as he set a plate of cut fruit between them, selecting a piece of mango and taking a bite, licking his fingers suggestively.

   "It was bound to happen at some point. I thought we could go into the ocean before your dad gets back. All our shit is packed, and we have to be at the airport at five."

   Reality. They had to face it again, and she could feel her mood flagging, but Negan started chattering about their hike the day before and the fact that he almost fell down a ravine, distracting her as she watched him pantomime bouncing down on his ass as the ground gave way underneath him.

   The waves were calm as they splashed around, engaging in a quickie that left her sore, dragging themselves to shore as they heard a car pull up. Lunch was spent around the pool as Gabriella told them about their honeymoon, a resort in the middle of the jungle. 

   Regretfully, she and Negan went up to shower and change for their flight, extracting herself from Gabriella's tearful hug with a promise to return soon. Similarly, Negan and George were chatting together quietly, and her heart throbbed when her dad slapped him on the back as he shook his hand. 

   Huddled in the backseat together, Andie was in a different frame of mind than when she'd arrived, and she took in the scenery as they drove back to Cancun, holding Negan's hand. 

  "Thank you so much for coming, poodle," her dad said, clearing his throat as she hugged him. "It's wonderful to see you so happy."

   "Thank you, dad. For everything."

   Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the right as George patted Negan on the cheek, winking.

   "Keep in touch, son."

   "Yes, sir."

   Negan was unusually subdued as he took their plane tickets out of his pocket, and in a few minutes, they were in their seats. Andie waved to her dad as the plane started to move, knowing he couldn't see it but doing it anyway.

 

 

   Ace was fucking pissed. He'd texted Cara three times over the past hour, and she hadn't responded. If she was trying to screw him out of his money, she was going to get the beating of a lifetime.

   Swearing under his breath, he pulled into the parking lot of the Sunshine Motel, slamming on the breaks in front of the manager's office. An ugly middle-aged man was reading a porno magazine behind the desk, not bothering to look up as the bell on top of the door jangled, announcing that he had a customer.

   Ace slammed his hand down on the counter, getting his attention, and his eyebrow rose as he stood up.

   "Yeah?"

   "A girl showed up here about two hours ago with a client," Ace told him, opening his jacket to show his gun as the guy looked unimpressed. "Pretty girl wearing a red dress. What room are they in?"

   "I dunno."

   Grinding his teeth, Ace pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slapped it down on the counter, knowing if it wasn't enough, the guy was going to lose his front teeth.

   "They're in room sixteen. End of the building."

   His brass knuckles gleamed in the dull light as he drove and parked in front of Cara's room, pissed that the shades were drawn and no light was visible. Knocking loudly, he listened for any sounds that she was still fucking the rich guy, but it was quiet. There was a black Mercedes a few spots away, so they were still in there.

   "Cara, open the fucking door," he bellowed, not giving a shit that there were other people around, banging loudly. Still no response, and with a bellow of frustration, he took off towards the manager's office, dragging the guy by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to open the door with a threat of castrating him. 

   Ace wasn't easily rattled, but he was sickened when he stepped inside and saw Cara sprawled on the bed on her back, blood and bruises spattered on her naked body and a huge gash over her heart. Shoving the manager out of the room, he slammed and locked the door, pulling out his gun and his phone as he stood over her mottled face.

   Dialing the phone, he aimed his gun at the bathroom door, kicking it open, but it was empty and the window was open. Peering into the night, he rushed back to the door, but the Mercedes was screeching out of the parking lot, and the manager took off running when he fired three shots at the retreating car.

   "Hello?"

   "I need to talk to the boss," Ace panted, slamming the butt of the gun through the motel window, picking up Cara's purse and rifling through it, finding a wad of cash and her phone. He didn't want to call Scarpetti, but Cara was one of his highest earning girls, and if some abusive fuck was killing his pros, Scarpetti needed to know. They'd already lost a male a few weeks before.

   "Speak."

   "I'm at the Sunshine boss," he said, picking up Cara's dress and laying it over her chest, covering the oozing wound. "Cara took a john here two hours ago and didn't answer when I called her. He fucking butchered her."

   Ace held the phone away from his ear as Scarpetti let out a stream of cuss words, blaming him for not keeping an eye on the girls. It was going to come out of his pay, and he was just about to lose his goddamned mind when Cara let out a moan.

   "Holy fuck, she's still alive," Ace's skin was covered in goosebumps as sirens got steadily louder. "I gotta split," he told his boss, backing out of the room. "I can't get pinched. Cops are on their way."

   "Do not, and I fucking repeat, do not leave the area," Scarpetti warned him in an icy voice. "Make sure the bitch gets to the hospital, and if she lives, I want to know who did this. Whoever's fucking with my livelihood is gonna be a grease stain. I want eyes on her at all times."

   "Yes, sir." 

   Ace pulled out of the lot just as a police car drove in, and he drove a few yards down, parking in front of the Denny's that was just catty-corner to the motel, watching from behind the wheel as two cops went into the room, rushing out almost immediately after. 

   Less than five minutes later, an ambulance came roaring in and Cara was loaded up with the sirens wailing, forcing other cars off the road. When it was a respectable distance away, Ace followed behind, parking at the hospital as he texted Tommy and Gus to meet him.

   Someone was going to fucking pay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Cara survive? Will Negan and Andie get a break on this case? Is Daryl's nose fucked up? Stay tuned...


	19. Priority 2

   Dwight took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself down to keep from slugging the motel manager. The fat man had been uncooperative with every question he'd asked him, and he was rapidly losing his cool.

   "Do you know the john's name?" he asked again as Larry, the night manager shook his head, mopping his face with a yellowed handkerchief.

   "I fucking told you pricks already. The dude paid cash. I ain't in the business of makin' pleasantries."

   "Of course not," Dwight snorted as he felt his phone vibrate. Sherry was going to kill him. He was supposed to be off two hours ago, but he was knee deep in statements, and he still wanted to stop at the hospital to check on the Jane Doe. "You're only in the goddamned service business after all. What did he look like?"

   "I don't know," Larry looked through him. "Like every other moneyed freak that comes here to get their rocks off. Good-lookin', I guess. Blonde hair and light eyes. Wore fancy cologne."

   Great. That only narrowed it down to half of Atlanta's upwardly mobile male population, but he wrote down the details, waving to one of the uniforms to take Larry downtown to meet with a sketch artist. 

   "And the other guy? The one that fired shots?"

   "Typical mobster," Larry told him as he stood up. "Dressed like he walked outta Goodfellas with shiny pants and a blazer. Had a snake ring on his finger."

   Ace.

   He'd been on Dwight's radar for going on two years. One of the pimps that ran Stewart Avenue, Ace was at the top of the food chain, working for Armand Scarpetti, and if it was one of his girls that got attacked, there was going to be a bloodbath coming.

   With a sigh, Dwight walked past the other officers taking statements to room 16, standing in the doorway as forensics bagged up the sheets and just about everything else in the shitty room. He'd need a shower after he got home, the collected grime and filth of the Sunshine motel practically floating visibly in the air. 

   Jane Doe had been found clinging to life with no identification, and the paramedics weren't even sure she was going to survive the ride to the hospital. Amazingly, she had and was currently in surgery to repair the damage that her john had inflicted on her. 

   She'd been strangled, assaulted, and her chest had been sliced open, all the hallmarks of the Heartbreaker. 

   Dwight looked at his watch, debating on whether or not to call Daryl, but he decided to wait until a more decent hour. He'd been asking around to see who was buying up ketamine on the streets at Daryl's request, but all the regular dealers were unable to give him names.

   "All you frat boys look the same," they'd said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Money is money."

   He'd put in a request for the doctors to take blood samples to see if Jane Doe had been drugged, and he trudged back to his car, throwing his bag on the seat as he lit up a cigarette.

   He really needed a fucking vacation, he thought as he drove to the hospital.

 

 

   Andie was the first person to arrive at the precinct, stowing her purse in her desk as she sipped at her coffee. It felt odd to be back, and even odder to not be with Negan, but seeing as they weren't currently on speaking terms, it was to be expected.

   As soon as they were in the air, he'd dropped several bombshells on her, starting with the fact that her peeping Tom had shown up again, only to escape after breaking Daryl's nose. Aside from that was the tidbit that whoever had been in her house had also jacked off.

   She was beyond livid as she glared at him, the words unable to come out when he held up his hands in defeat.

   "I know I should've told you," he said quietly so that their seatmate couldn't hear, " but I didn't want you to worry."

   "You...didn't want me to worry?" she parrotted back to him, narrowing her eyes. "Have you lost your fucking mind? You had no right to keep that from me."

   The worry and tension that she'd managed to stave off came settling back on her shoulders like it had been handed out to her with a bag of peanuts, and she shut down. Refusing to engage with him, Andie stared out into the dark, fighting the urge to cry as they flew back towards Atlanta, landing in the early hours of the morning.

   She stood with the bags as Negan arranged for a driver to pick them up, and she huddled on the far side of the car away from him, spending the next hour picking at her nails. He was far too smart to say anything, and when the car dropped them off, she wrenched her bag out of the trunk, taking off into her house before he could stop her and locking the door behind her.

   He pounded on it for about five minutes before giving up, and she went to the windows, locking them and shutting the blinds. Spending the rest of the night on the couch with her gun firmly in her hand, she stared up at the ceiling, feeling like an asshole. 

   It was shitty of her to shut him out, but it was just as fucked up that he didn't tell her what was going on inside her walls. This was her house and her life, and he had no right to decide what she should and shouldn't know. They were supposed to be in a relationship now, and Negan had told her over and over that it wasn't just the cheating that destroyed his marriage. It was the lying. He hadn't lied to her, but he omitted important truths, and it hurt her. Mostly because he assumed she couldn't handle it.

   Just before the sun came up, she dragged her bag upstairs, tossing her dirty clothes into the basket and edged her way into the guest room, flipping on the light, but there were no stains that she could see. Not on the bed, and not anywhere on the carpet. Deciding that Daryl must've cleaned it up, she went in and took a shower, slowly unlocking the door to leave.

   She almost had a heart attack when she saw a figure huddled against the wall, and it took her a second to realize that it was Negan. He'd spent the night on her porch, and she was both touched and angry as she stepped carefully over him, sneaking down to her car.

   When she shut the door, he stirred, and she fired up the engine, driving away without looking back. 

   Now, she wanted to know what went on while she was gone, and she rifled through the papers on her desk to see if they'd gotten any more information about the intruder in her house. 

   "Whoa."

   Her head snapped up when she heard footsteps, and she was dismayed to see Shane was the first one in, looking at her wistfully. 

   "You go to see your dad?" he asked, taking in her newly tanned appearance. 

   "Yep," she said, sitting back in her chair. "He got married."

   Shane sat down across from her at Abe's desk, running his hand over his face as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. 

   "I wish you would've told me what happened, Blue," he said, sounding hurt. "It sucked finding out from Daryl that someone was in your house."

   "There were enough cops around. I didn't think you needed to be involved."

   "I got contacts-"

   Shane's mouth snapped shut as Negan came stalking in, an understanding dawning on him as she averted her eyes. He was tanner than she was, and obviously, he hadn't been around for several days, but this was concrete confirmation that he was the one Andie was dating. 

   Negan never spared him a glance, focusing only on her as she stood up. 

   "Excuse me," she told Shane, starting for the conference room as Negan caught up to her. 

   "Andie," Negan took ahold of her upper arm stopping her in her tracks as she bit down on her lip to keep from going off on him. 

   "Now's not the time," she said quietly, looking over his shoulder. "We have work to do."

   "Welcome back."

   Both of them turned to see Rick coming in, smoothing down his hair as he carried a cup of coffee. Leading the way into the conference room, he gave Andie an encouraging smile, taking the first chair as she sat next to him. Negan sat across from her, looking over the stacks of files as Shane followed behind, sitting far away from all of them.

   Daryl wasn't in yet, so Rick told her about the images that were captured on the cameras that had been set up in her house. The pictures were grainy, and they weren't able to make a positive identification, but Glenn was able to enhance it enough to confirm that her intruder was wearing a baseball cap, one that had the same image on it as the stills from the jewelry store surveillance. 

   "Both of them were wearing Falcons hats," Rick told her, showing her the picture as Negan waited patiently for a look. "We've got the fingerprints cataloged, along with the other, uh, sample, and we're cross-checking all of the other cases."

   "There won't be a match," Negan pointed out as Andie slid the photo across the table towards him. "This fucker hasn't left any physical evidence behind."

   "True, but he'll screw up again," Shane said, letting his voice take on an edge. "He already fucked up once by not getting rid of his fingerprints at Andie's."

   "I'm going to have unmarked cars stationed outside of your house for the foreseeable future," Rick announced as Andie shook her head. "It's not up for negotiation, Saunders. If this guy has fixated on you, he won't be able to stay away, and I'm not letting something happen to you."

   "I'll be there," Negan insisted, his hands clenching into fists as Shane stiffened. "She won't be alone."

   "I want control of this," Shane interjected, and Andie slammed her fist on the table, startling all of them.

   "Stop fucking talking about me like I'm not sitting right here," she screeched, standing up so quickly that the chair shot back into the whiteboard, making it wobble. "I'm not some goddamned helpless victim. I'm a cop, just like you. Just like all of you."

   All of them were silent as she stomped towards the door, running smack into Daryl who steadied her as she stumbled.

   "Oh my God," she said, taking in his black eyes and swollen nose. "Are you okay?"

   "I'll live," he told her gruffly, steering her back into the room. "Dwight just called me."

   "He got a lead on the ketamine?"

   Negan got to his feet as Daryl shook his head. 

   "He's got a girl. Alive. She was attacked last night and lived."

   "You sure it's the Heartbreaker?" Shane was the first one to the door, feeling around in his pocket for keys as Andie followed behind him.

   "She was assaulted, strangled, and her chest was cut. Girl's pimp interrupted him before he could get to the heart. She's at Metro in surgery."

   Andie was caught somewhere between sick and excited as they all fled the conference room, and she grabbed her stuff from her desk, handing Negan her keys. Their fight was forgotten for the moment as Rick and Shane peeled out with their lights blaring, and she and Daryl jumped in the car, Negan barely waiting for the doors to shut before he pulled out behind them. 

   They finally fucking caught a break.

 

 

David Smith was angrier than ever as he stood in the chop shop garage, watching Joey hand off the keys to the Mercedes to one of his guys, ordering it stripped for parts. He assured David that the car would be torched once they got everything they could from it, and the two men exchanged money before Joey gave him the keys to a black Dodge Charger. It was a 2015, the newest model Joey had, though he'd specifically asked for a Camaro like Negan's.

   As he drove away, he set his bag on the floor, unsatisfied and on edge. He hadn't been able to finish his work, and it left him feeling hollow. He was denied again, this time by the hooker's fucking pimp.

   All of the joy, all of the anticipation as he'd cut into her chest was gone. The only consolation he had was that the bitch was dead, even though it had taken him three days to find a whore that looked just like Andie. Hearing her moan Negan's name, looking at him before she passed out from the drugs was delicious. It fed the dark hole in his heart and it made him so hard that he almost came before he even strangled her. 

   Pulling into his house, he turned off the engine and grabbed his bag, starting a fire in the fireplace as he blinked tiredly, tossing the gloves, condoms, knife and wine bottle into the flames, watching as they changed colors and swelled before resuming their regular dance. 

   Once there were only ashes remaining, he fell into bed with a smile that turned into a frown as he slept. He couldn't be denied again.

 

 

   Nurse Kelly Brower checked the vitals on the Jane Doe that just made it through surgery, logging her pulse into the computer as the heart monitor beeped steadily. It was a miracle that this girl survived the monstrous attack that she'd been through, and her bandages were spotted with blood that still leaked out of the incision that ran across her chest.

   She'd coded twice as Dr. Teller repaired the damage to her muscles and bone, but they were able to get her back. Luckily her heart was strong, though Kelly was unsure what kind of quality of life she'd have. The poor thing had been strangled several times and her brain had been deprived of oxygen. They had no way of knowing if she'd suffered permanent damage. 

   Right now, she was sedated and on painkillers, deemed critical for the time being. It was unnerving that there were police officers stationed outside of her room, but it wouldn't stop Kelly from doing her job, and she counted Jane's respirations, making note that they were steady.

   As she was getting ready to head out to her next patient, the girl stirred lightly, her fingers twitching on the bedsheet. Kelly checked the morphine pump to make sure it was dispensing the proper dose when swollen lips parted, and Jane Doe's raspy, broken chords muttered one word.

   "Ne...gan."


	20. Speak 'n Spell

   Andie shifted uncomfortably on the waiting room chair, reading through the witness statements for the twentieth time. Whoever designed these seats was obviously a sadist who took pleasure in torturing people who were already distraught.

   Daryl sat quietly next to her as Rick conferred in the corner with Phillip Blake, his Atlanta counterpart, and Daryl's boss. Tall and imposing, he seemed more like a villain than a good guy, and it was partially due to his eyepatch. He was the complete opposite of Rick in every way, though they appeared to get along.

   Shane and Negan had insisted on both being allowed into the ICU, some sort of alpha-male dominance display, neither one wanting the other to get more information. 

   She, however, was in no hurry to see the girl, especially after reading about what she'd suffered through. Visions of Rosita and Beth before her filled her mind, both having been unable to escape the Heartbreaker. Jane Doe, did, though, and if she managed to regain consciousness, she was the key to helping them catch him.

   "Are we going to have a problem with Scarpetti?" she wondered in a low voice as Daryl nodded.

   "Probably. It was one of his girls, and he's fucking territorial."

   "In a sick way, I'm almost hoping Scarpetti finds him if we don't. At least he'll suffer."

   Daryl huffed as she stood up and stretched, handing him the file. Shane and Negan had been gone for going on two hours, and she was itching to get some information. 

   When they finally swept through the locked door another hour later, Shane looked irate and Negan was pale, avoiding her gaze. He stormed past her, and she followed behind him, trying to catch up, be he let the elevator doors shut in her face, leaving her dumbfounded.

   "What the fuck is going on?" she asked as Shane punched the down button, refusing to look her in the eye. "Shane?"

   "The fucking vic said his name," he muttered, leaving a chill in the air.

   "The Heartbreaker's?"

   "No, your boyfriend's." The accusation was hanging there between them, and the door opened, two more cops filing out to join the cavalcade that were already keeping watch. 

   "What the fuck are you implying?"

   The others were still in the waiting room, leaving the two of them alone in the lift as it descended to the ground floor.

   "I ain't implyin' shit," he said, staring down at the floor. "He claims he doesn't know her, but she sure as fuck knows him. I don't think there are too many other guys named 'Negan' running around Atlanta."

   As she stepped out, he pulled her to a stop in front of the information desk, his eyes a little softer.

   "That ain't all, Blue."

   What more could he possibly drop on her?"

   "The girl looks a lot like you."

   "What?"

   "She's got the same color hair, the same body shape," he led her towards the exit, lowering his voice as two elderly women started to walk in step with them. "Same lips.

   Same...everything."

   It was an eerie feeling at that moment, the unseen survivor upstairs that supposedly resembled her. One that knew Negan, and had his name on her lips as she fought for life.

   No wonder he'd taken off, in her car no less.

   "I gotta talk to him," she said, letting him guide her to his car, and she climbed in, taking out her phone. She dialed his number, but it went right to voicemail. "Where are we going?"

   "Daryl's precinct," Shane told her, pulling out of the garage onto the busy road, checking his GPS for the correct address. "I want to see everything they've got on this case and the others."

   Under the circumstances, Andie didn't blame him. Negan threw a wrench into this situation, and if she was honest with herself, she felt the need to get more information as well.

   The Atlanta Police Department, Zone 5, was an older building, not in much better shape than her own, and Andie stood with Shane as they checked in at the desk, showing their credentials. Phillip Blake had phoned ahead, granting them access to the records room, and after collecting a handful of snacks and coffee, she and Shane set up at the corner table.

   Negan and Daryl had only pulled about half the files and brought them to Fairfax, and Andie took out her notebook, making observations and copying reports, trying to paint a picture that was more detailed, more concise than what she'd already known. 

   Still, it felt like she was getting nowhere, and Shane was immersed in his own papers, offering little to no conversation. Frustration was building in her again, and she set out the names of each of the women, trying to make some sort of connection to the current victim. There had to be something that tied them together.

   Jane Doe.

   Rosita Espinosa.

   Elizabeth Greene.

   Lisa Potter. 

   Catherine Peterson.

   Delilah Anthony.

   Antoinette Siciliano.

   LaDawna Smith.  
  
   

   They were women of varying ages and ethnicities. None of them were from the same area, and they held different jobs. Students, office clerks, a teacher. No one thread that entwined them, other than the fact that they'd met up with the wrong man. Negan's name was never mentioned in any of the statements, either. So, why this girl? Why now?

   Maybe he'd unknowingly helped her out at some point and just didn't remember it. She was a hooker, after all, so she wasn't a stranger to law enforcement. Maybe something about the Heartbreaker had brought him to the forefront of her mind, and it was a plea for help.

   Absently, she wrote down each of the names that the Heartbreaker had used as her mind tripped over itself to help.  
  
   ?

   Adam ?

   John Householder.

   Nelson Freeman.

   Aaron Roberts.

   Geoff Bateman.

   Eric Raleigh.

   Norman J. Kline.  


   Again, nothing. None of the names were the same, and her eyes unfocused as Andie studied the paper, when all of a sudden, something caught her eye, and she fought the urge to vomit, snatching up the paper and running through the room for the exit, barely remembering to grab her purse.

   Shane called after her, but she was already gone, panting as she dialed Negan's number with shaking hands, nearly crying when the phone picked up.

   "Where are you?" she asked breathlessly as she fled the precinct, looking around for someone to give her a ride.

 

 

     
   Negan sat at Carol's kitchen table, refusing to speak as she watched him, her mouth set in a firm line. He'd shown up in the middle of the day, seeking the only other person besides Andie that could make him see reason.

   "I can sit here all night, sweetheart," she told him calmly, "but we can't solve your problems if you don't talk."

   "You can't solve shit," he lashed out at her, but she didn't even blink. "I can't.."

   "Negan, man the hell up and tell me what's happening."

   So, he did. He told her about the intruder in Andie's house, and how he kept the full truth from her, and the trip to Mexico. How they'd found a girl that was attacked by the Heartbreaker and the fact that she'd mumbled his name in a drug-induced haze. Even how it had rattled him, and he never got fucking rattled. Not since Lucille.

   "Do you know the girl?" Carol asked when he finally stopped to take a breath, propping her chin on her hands. She didn't judge, and she didn't get disappointed in his outbursts. 

   "No, I've never seen the woman in my life. It's just," he hesitated, drawing little circles on the tablecloth, following the blue pattern as he steeled himself to face the truth. "The girl is a dead ringer for Andie."

   "What do you think about that?"

   "I think..." he paused, finally meeting her eyes, hating the vulnerability that he felt, like an anchor had been strapped to his waist and someone had tossed him into the ocean.

   "I'm afraid. I'm fucking afraid that something's gonna happen to her, and I won't be able to protect her."

   His phone rang, and he didn't even have to glance at it to know it was Andie again, but before he could hit 'decline', Carol snatched it off of the table and answered it.

   "Where are you?"

   He could hear Andie's frantic voice through the speaker, and he reached out to take it, but Carol slapped his hand away, getting to her feet. 

   "Andie, it's Carol."

   The phone buzzed as Andie spoke quickly, and Carol shot him a look as she gave her the address, setting the phone back down. 

   "What the fuck, Carol?"

   "You're not going to push this girl away because you're afraid," she said, taking the seat next to him as he thought about throttling her. "You have to talk to her."

   He couldn't. He absolutely couldn't, and Carol knew it. She was busting his balls, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could barely verbalize that he liked this woman, let alone that he cared for her like...Lucille. His lost love that he also caused the death of, and it sent a wave of despair through him. 

   Andie showed up twenty minutes later, pounding on the door as Carol went to let her in. Negan was prepared for her anger, but she was on a whole other level as she careened towards him, shoving a paper in front of his face.

   "What do you see?" she demanded in a raspy voice, staring at him like he was the goddamned Heartbreaker.

   He snatched the paper out of her fingers, looking at the list of names. They were all the aliases the sick fucker used in each murder, and he stared back blankly.

   Rustling around in her purse, she took the paper back and circled some letters holding it in front of his face again as Carol hovered behind him, gasping out loud. 

    **N** orman

    **E** ric

    **G** eoff

    **A** aron

    **N** elson

    **J** ohn

    **A** dam

   -

 

   A sick buzzing started in his chest, moving slowly up to his head until he thought that he would pass out, and he stood up without thinking, the paper like a shining light, guiding him to the truth. 

   This was about him. This was _always_ about him.

   "You need to remove yourself from this case," he said in an empty voice, refusing to meet her gaze. 

   "No, we need-"

   "I'm as goddamned motherfucking serious as a heart attack," he roared, flipping the table over as Carol skittered back. "Either you get off the case or we're through, Detective."

   Andie let out a gasping laugh, taking a step back as she finally saw him for the monster he really was.

   "Are you giving me an ultimatum?" 

   The words were barely audible over the pounding in his brain, and he pulled the meanest, most devastating look on his face that he could.

   "That's exactly what I'm fucking saying. Either you turn around and go home, or I walk out of this door, and we're done for good."

   "Negan-"

   "No," he turned his gaze to Carol, who looked terrified of him, and he almost immediately backed down. But the one pure, honest part of his soul wouldn't let him. Everything in his life hinged on her answer, and he crossed his arms.

   "I won't."

   Andie shook her head, the paper curling up in her fist, and he started for the door, grabbing his phone as he blew past her.

   "Don't ever contact me again, or I won't be responsible for what I say or do."  


 

   Sitting on the concrete steps were as bad, if not slightly worse than the chairs at the hospital, and Andie twisted her back, cracking some of the tension out as she waited for Negan to show up.

   He'd stormed out of Carol's house, leaving the two of them standing in shock. The table had been flipped over, and he'd told her that they were through, the thought so hurtful and wounding that she'd been unable to speak for several minutes until Carol started to try to right the mess that he'd made.

   Between the two of them, they were able to get the table back to its original position, and Andie moved robotically to straighten the chairs and flowers that has splattered across the floor.

   "I'm sorry," she said tonelessly, feeling the need to apologize for bringing such upheaval into the formerly battered woman's orbit. 

   "What are you apologizing for? You didn't do anything wrong," Carol consoled her, even though her hands were shaking. "He's upset, and seeing that scared the shit out of him."

   "It doesn't give him the right to push me away. Or you."

   "I know," she sighed, putting her arm around Andie's shoulders. "But I warned you before that fear makes him say and do some really stupid things. Seeing that the girl looked like you threw him for a massive loop, and he thinks that something is going to happen to you. Now, he's sure it's his fault."

   Andie stared at the piece of paper, the letters that formed Negan's name jumping out at her. A taunt. Both of the killer and the fact that Negan had hurt her deeply. 

   "It's not his fault. He's a victim in this, just like everyone else."

   "Don't let him push you away, darling. You two need each other."

   After getting herself together, Andie called for a car and had him drive her to Negan's apartment, but his Camaro and her vehicle weren't in the lot. 

   Andie Saunders was tenacious with a capital T, and she wasn't leaving until they hashed this out. She cared too much about this man to walk away now, and he knew it.

   But the minutes turned into hours, and she was tired and thirsty when a little sports coupe pulled in, and a giggling woman got out of the driver's seat, sending her heart into spasms.

   Stumbling out of the passenger door was Negan, and he put his arm around the girl's shoulder, whispering in her ear as Andie stood up. When he saw her, he stopped, like he'd been frozen with a laser or something. The girl looked up at him confused until she followed his vision, spying Andie standing there with her fists clenched.

   "Turn around and leave," Andie said without looking at the girl. 

   "Who are you?" the girl snapped, squeezing Negan's waist as he remained perfectly still.

   "I'm his girlfriend, and if you don't remove your arm from his body, I'll rip it off and hand it back to you."

   "You're not-" Negan managed to speak, flinching when Andie rushed towards him, making the girl squeal.

   "Negan, shut the _fuck up_!"

   It was loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood, and a few lights flipped on as the bimbo stumbled back, nearly falling on her ass. 

   "Get the _fuck_ out of here," she hissed, watching as the woman dove into her car and sped out of the parking lot, the sound of screeching tires the only sign that she was ever there.

   It was hard to swallow. It was harder to breathe. Pride kept her on her feet. Pride kept her from bursting into tears at the newest pain he'd foisted on her. 

   "Did you fuck her?" she managed to ask, seeing him for who he truly was. Not just a whore in a pretty face, but as a man who could never get out of his own way, leaving destruction wherever he went.

   "No," he whispered, his eyes getting glassy. 

   "Did you kiss her?"

   "Yes," he admitted after a few seconds hesitation. If he would've punched her in the gut, it probably would have hurt less than those three letters, and she couldn't stop the strangled sound that left her throat without her permission. Somehow, it seemed like even more of a betrayal, and she wasn't sure why. "I'm sorry."

   Andie pulled out her phone, dialing a number as he started to walk towards her, but she kept pace, and for every step that he took, she did as well. When the caller answered, she let out a short sob, turning away from Negan as she headed for the street.

   "Can you come to pick me up?"

   "Andie, wait-"

   Negan put his hand on her shoulder, and she spun around, knocking it off as she started to heave.

   "Don't touch me, asshole."

   "Please, I know I fucked up. I'm just so scared-"

   "Fuck you. Fuck you and all of your bullshit," she rambled, unleashing all of the pain she was feeling onto him. "Fuck your lies, fuck your emotional baggage, and fuck everything about you. You wanted me gone, and now I am, but I will _never_ drop this case. In fact, maybe you should be the one to walk away, _killer_."

   Negan recoiled, looking ashen as she jogged to the street, leaving him standing between two cars. 

   Shane's sedan pulled up when she was halfway to the cross-street, and she jumped in unable to keep from shaking as he pulled away. Negan was still standing in the same spot as they drove past, and she had to put her hand to her mouth to keep from crying. 

   In a daze, she stared straight ahead, unaware of where she was or even who she was with for a few minutes, and it was only when calloused fingers brushed her cheek that she blinked, turning to see Shane watching her sadly. 

   Impulsively, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, knowing it was wrong. 

   But she did it anyway, because she was alone, once again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't really think that Negan wouldn't Negan this up, did you?


	21. The Wicked Ways of Love

   Shane's lips were soft against hers. Familiar. And it hurtled her back in time to when he was her everything, allowing her to distance herself from the second worst day of her life.

   It was easy to thread her hand through his hair, which was rougher than Negan's, and shorter. Comforting, to hear the moan deep in his throat as he tested her resolve by darting his tongue into her mouth, exploring it slowly.

   In the fading light in his car, they moved together, getting closer and closer until Andie was nearly on his lap, and he broke free with a gasping sound, digging his fingers into her shoulders.

   "Blue, you can't do this," he sounded regretful, and she sat back slightly, panting.

   "Why not?"

   "If you said you wanted me, that you wanted to try to give us another chance, I would call Jeannie right now and end things," he blinked at her as she felt all of her emotion draining down to a single, panging sadness. She wasn't any better than Negan, throwing herself at Shane even though he was engaged, and her chin started to tremble. "But I don't think that's what's happening."

   "I'm so sorry," she whispered, falling back into her seat as she scrubbed at her eyes, the burn extending down to her chest. This is not the person that she wanted to be.

   Reluctantly, he put the car into drive, pulling into a Holiday Inn. The lot was empty, and he went inside, returning with a key card, parking around the back of the building as Andie sat in a stupor, the image of Negan with his arm around that woman permanently etched behind her lids.

   How did she get here? Two days ago, she was deliriously happy, and he was the reason. Now, she was sitting at rock bottom, with Shane as her witness.

   "Come on," he said gently, coming around to her door and opening it, taking her by the hand. He'd gotten a room on the bottom floor, and she stepped inside, looking around in confusion. "I'll be back," he told her, leaving her alone.

   Unsure of what to do, she turned to her side and curled up on the bed, staring at the wall as she tried to get her thoughts in order, but all that she could focus on was Negan. Flipping the table as he looked like a madman. The devastation on his face when she called him killer. It made her squirm, the cruelty that she'd dished out.

   Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it, looking at the display as her throat closed up. She declined the call, tossing the phone onto the nightstand, unable to even see his name.

   He'd kissed someone else. Probably ran his hands over her body, and she felt sick because she'd just done the same goddamned thing. Covering her eyes, she started to sob, burying her face in the pillow.

 

 

     
   Negan swayed on his feet as he stared at his phone, watching as it went to voicemail. There was no word to describe the pain he was in, and he didn't know how to fix it, how to take back what he'd done.

   All he wanted was for Andie to go away, where she wouldn't get hurt, and he ended up doing it himself. The knowledge that the Heartbreaker was someone that he knew, someone he'd interacted with had shaken him like nothing had before. People had died because of him, and it was right in front of his face the whole time, only no one had seen it.

   His name, being spelled out with each victim. Six lives so far and Andie was smack in the middle of this waking nightmare. Walking unsteadily to the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, trying to do anything to rid himself of his sin.

   He barely remembered leaving Carol's, storming out and taking Andie's car to the nearest bar that he could find, parking himself in a chair and downing shot after shot, trying to kill as many brain cells as he could. Maybe if he did, he could forget her. He could forget that he was happy for a while, because it was all over.

   Slim fingers ran themselves up his arm, and he'd turned his head to see a young girl watching him with hungry eyes. She was pretty, with thick brown hair and tits that were popping out of her dress. Everything he looked for when he just wanted to fuck, and he found himself buying her a drink, listening to her ramble, adding just enough grunts to make her think he was paying attention.

   When he stood up, his head was awash in alcohol, and he found himself leaning on the girl, who took him by the arm and walked him to her car, whispering in his ear how fucking hot he was. How much she wanted him. Pandering to his basest instincts, he pushed himself against her, kissing her sloppily as she moaned, running her hands up and down his chest.

   It wasn't Andie, but it was good enough to distract him, and she drove to his apartment when he gave her the address, unable to keep her hands off of him. His dick took over for his brain, and he threw his arm around her to guide her in when he locked eyes with the one person he always wanted to keep safe.

   Pinned in the heat of her gaze, her disappointment, he stood there, impotent as she lashed out at the girl whose name he didn't even bother to learn.

   "Who are you?" the girl snapped, and Andie unleashed her hate then and there.

   "I'm his girlfriend, and if you don't remove your arm from his body, I'll rip it off and hand it back to you."

   "You're not-" he said, trying to remind her that he'd set her free, that he wasn't her problem anymore, but it only inflamed the situation, and she told him to shut the fuck up. It was a testament to how much he knew he'd fucked up that he didn't even argue. He just memorized the flush in her cheeks, the way her eyes were flashing, and her hands were balled into fists, shaking with the desire to hurt him like he'd done to her. It was going to be his cross to bear going forward.

   The moment he admitted to kissing the girl, Andie let out a wounded sound, and he nearly pitched forward to his knees, wanting to beg her forgiveness, to understand that underneath everything, he was a mess. Scared of getting what he wanted, and unsure of what to do to keep it once he had it.

   She left him standing there, not that he blamed her. He had to think about how to get her to give him a second chance, but deep down, he knew it was pointless. He'd fucked up too badly, this girl that had already been scarred by another man who left her broken and thinking that she'd never be able to trust again.

   As he wiped his face, a pounding began at his door, and he rushed forward, thinking that it was Andie, willing to give him a chance to explain, but it wasn't. Instead, he got a fist to the face, and he toppled backward, falling over the table that sat flush with his couch.

   "You fucking piece of shit," Shane hissed, slamming the door and advancing towards him with his arm raised. "Do you have any idea what the fuck you've done?"

   Negan's cheek was throbbing as he looked up, spitting blood in Shane's face, sparking a rage inside him, and he jumped on top of him, pounding his fists anywhere he could. His face, his ribs. Negan was too drunk to fight back, so he just took it. It felt good, strangely, this physical punishment for his indiscretions.

   With his energy sapped, Shane collapsed on the floor next to him, breathing heavily with hate in his eyes.

   "She kissed me."

   It was a knife to the heart, and Negan doubled over, dry heaving both from the ache in his stomach and the pain of what he'd driven her to.

   "Did you fuck her?" he croaked, unable to look him in the eye.

   "Fuck you," Shane spat, kicking at him weakly. "I ain't like you. I don't take advantage of women. She's a fucking wreck. Because of you."

   "I fucking love her, man."

   Shane laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

   "You sure have a funny way of showing it, you stupid prick."

   Negan buried his face in his hands, doing something he hadn't since he was a child. He started to cry, rocking back and forth, the alcohol working like a truth serum. He drunkenly confessed everything to Shane. His marriage and subsequent cheating. The death of Lucille and the shuttering of his heart until Andie came along.

   Revelations of the fact that the Heartbreaker had something to do with him. Everything. Even the fight where he told Andie to leave because she meant too much to him to be dragged down into the quicksand where he was stuck flailing around.

   "Did you know Andie didn't cry when I left?" Shane said after Negan finally trailed off, raising his knees and resting his arms on them as he smiled bitterly. "Not a fucking tear. She was devastated, I know. But not enough to cry over losing me."

   Negan turned to the side to face Shane, lost as to why he was telling him this. "What's your point?"

   "My point is, after years together and an engagement ring, me leaving didn't break her as much as she thinks it did. But _you_? After a fucking month and kissing some girl? She bawled her fucking eyes out, man."

   If his goal was to make Negan feel worse, he scored a direct hit and then some, and Negan struck out, knocking the lamp off of the table where it shattered against the cement floor, pieces flying everywhere.

   "Stop," Shane clamped down on his arm, but he shook it off with a grunt. "You fucking psycho."

   "Don't you get it, asshole? I've lost everything, especially her. I've cost _lives_. There ain't no coming back from this."

   He knew he was right because Shane didn't argue, and he didn't rub it in, either.

 

 

     
   The sound of a lock clicking startled Andie out of her hours-long sleep, and she sat up with a thrumming heart, not fully awake or sure where she was. The room was dark, only a sliver of light as the door opened, and her eyes throbbed when the lights flipped on, forcing them back shut.

   When the door clicked shut, she attempted to open her eyes, finding Shane standing there with swollen knuckles and a bag of fast food, tossing it on the bed when she scrambled up, feeling jangly.

   "What did you do?"

   "Sit down, Blue," he said, pressing down on her shoulders until her ass hit the mattress, and he plopped down next to her, staring at his hand. The anxiety in her chest was incrementally climbing as he refused to look at her, and she practically shook him to get him to talk.

   "I went to see Negan."

   "Why? Why would you do that?"

   "Because I wanted to hurt him, Blue," he finally met her eyes, and she could see how much this was costing him. "I wanted to make sure he knew how much he ruined everything. I wanted to rub it in his face that he'd lost you, that you'd come to me, even though it was only 'cause I'm old and familiar."

   "Shane, that's not-"

   "Don't," he held up his hand, waving her words away. "I know you and I aren't ever gonna be together again, and I think I may have made peace with that tonight. And the shitty part of me is happy about that because I don't think we ever had the kind of passion that you have with him."

   Andie sucked in a ragged breath, the words hurting and confirming what she already knew to be true. She loved him. She loved someone that was incapable of loving her back, and it sent her into a panic attack. Tendrils of mania trickled down her spine as she started to tremble because loving a man like Negan was only going to hurt.

   "He's outside in the hall, Blue."

   "You...you brought him here? After everything that happened?"

   "I can't make your decisions for you, as much as I'd like to," Shane chuckled sadly, taking her hand and holding it to his lips. "And I never in my life thought that I'd steer you towards another man, especially him. But he's in love with you, Alexandra. He probably needs intensive therapy for all of his fucked up issues, but he genuinely loves you, and it's terrifying for him. I'll never understand why he's done the things he has in his past, but don't let this mistake cost you the happiness you deserve."

   She wanted to lash out, to tell Shane that he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. He had no idea what Negan had gone through, but it didn't excuse what he'd done today.

   "I know about Lucille, Blue."

   Her heart nearly stopped beating as her mouth dropped open. Negan told him? Everything?

   "At least talk to him. If you can't see past this, then I'll escort him out of here, and we'll leave. It's your call, but I want you to be happy. It's all I ever wanted."

   Softly, Shane leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and it felt like a good-bye, a real ending to everything they'd shared, carving out a piece of her heart that she'd never get back again. He stood up, waiting, and she nodded her head once, sliding back to the headboard as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

   Just like that, the past walked out, and what she thought was going to be her future walked in, standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed. He was a mess, with bloodshot eyes and bruises all over his face, and he was unable to look her in the eye, breathing unsteadily.

   She just kept a wary eye on him, waiting for him to say whatever he had to say so that she could leave, and he finally hedged towards her, dropping to his knees, his head falling onto the mattress next to her foot. Blindly, he reached out his hand, touching her leg, and she stiffened underneath it but didn't pull away.

   "I'm sorry," he said into the comforter, sounding broken and despondent, but she was unmoved.

   "For what?"

   His head snapped up as he looked at her in confusion, and she felt the heat of her rising temper bleeding through her skin.

   "What?"

   "What are you sorry for?"

   "I- for everything," he said, shaking his head. "Every goddamned thing I've done to hurt you."

   "So, lying to me? Scaring the shit out of Carol? Not telling me about what really went on in my apartment? Kissing another woman? Holding this case over my head? Stealing my fucking car? Trying to make decisions about my life without any input from me? Breaking my fucking heart?" She was shouting as she knocked his hand off of her leg, seeing red. Seeing an outlet to every frustration that she had, and it took everything in her not to strike out physically, to throttle him, or add more bruises to his already busted face.

   "Everything," he said quietly, taking all that she threw at him. "I love you, and I hate everything about myself."

   That brought her up short, because he was absolutely convinced of that. He was shaped by the way that he grew up, and the way that he was treated by both his family and Lucille's. She didn't see a stunningly handsome man with the engaging personality and the confidence to do anything. She saw a broken boy, struggling to be a man, and she took a deep breath, covering her face in her hands.

   "I love you, too," she admitted, hearing a moaning sound from the floor. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to be your doormat, Negan."

   "I'll make this up to you, I swear," he said, crawling up onto the bed as she inched away, still hiding her face. "I'll do anything. Therapy. I'll leave the case. Anything you want."

   The fact that he was willing to leave the Heartbreaker case was what made her look up, and she saw in his eyes that he was serious. He was willing to set it aside for her. It would've been easy to tell him okay, that he should walk away.

   But she didn't. She wouldn't. This case was entwined in both of their lives, and that was the difference between the two of them. As much as she wanted to keep him safe, she would never force him to give this up, because he'd earned it as much as she had, if not more.

   "I don't want you to leave the case," she said, the relief in his face palpable. "I want you to talk to someone about your issues, though. And you can't dictate the terms of our relationship. If you value me as an equal and a partner, it has to be exactly that. A true partnership. We decide things together."

   Negan nodded vigorously, reaching out to touch her, but she wasn't ready for that, holding up her hand to block him. Pain flitted across his face, but he sat back, giving her space.

   "If you ever, and I mean _ever_ , kiss, touch, fuck, or otherwise do anything with another woman ever again, don't even bother trying to talk to me, because I will never let it happen. If you love me, you'll do me the courtesy of telling me you want to end this, but not as your fucked up way of trying to protect me. And I'll do the same for you."

   "I swear to fucking God, I won't," he swore, and she rolled off the bed, grabbing the food.

   "Then where are my fucking keys? I want to go home."

   Negan stood up, taking them from his pocket and handing them over to her with the tips of his fingers, and she snatched them out of his hand, heading for the door.

   As she opened it and went out into the hall which was empty, she called out to him over her shoulder.

   "Are you coming?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh. They aren't on solid ground, but they're working their way back. Up next, Jane Doe speaks...


	22. Revelations, and Other Sticky Things

   The rain was beating steadily down on the windshield as Andie listened to Sasha, shutting her eyes while the other woman spoke without taking a breath, telling her about the latest comings and goings in town.

   She felt guilty about not spending time with her, and Andie knew that everything in her life had taken a backseat to the case in the last few weeks. And Negan. She couldn't deny that, either. But it felt like this was the way it had to be for now, and she'd tried to explain that to Sasha, though it didn't feel like she was making any headway.

  "At least come to dinner tomorrow night," Sasha said, using her most placating tone of voice. "It will be good for you. I need to see you, Andie, not just here and there."

   "All right," she finally gave in, the niggling voice in her head telling her that balancing her time shouldn't be this hard. "I'll talk to Negan."

   "Oh, he's coming, too?" 

   "Is Abe?" she snapped back, taking a deep breath as she was met with silence. "Listen, Sash, I don't know what you know about Negan, but he's important to me, so you need to get to know him. Dinner would be perfect for that, so if you want to meet at Antonio's, we'll gladly be there as long as nothing major happens."

   "I'm sorry," Sasha apologized, and Andie cut her off.

   "No, _I'm_ sorry," and she was sincere. "I know I haven't been there for you, and I've been an absent friend. I just...there's been a lot going on, and I'll make it up to you, I swear. But I need you to go easy, okay? I think he's the one."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah," she said softly, watching as Negan exited the building, dodging the raindrops as best he could on the way to her car. "I'll call you tomorrow to confirm dinner."

   Tossing the phone in her purse, she unlocked the door as he dove in, and she turned on the defroster to unfog the windshield as Negan shook off the excess water, splattering her inadvertently.

   "Sorry," he said as she wiped her face, backing out of the parking space. 

   Andie was dying to ask him how it went, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing that he was brooding as she drove towards Atlanta. He'd just had his first session with Michonne, the profiler that was helping on their case, and he'd tossed and turned the entire night before.

   In addition to working with law enforcement, Michonne Anthony was also a practicing psychologist, and she agreed to take Negan on with no wait, so five days after their blowup, he'd made an appointment to speak with her. 

   Still, theirs was an uneasy relationship at this point in time, even though Negan was staying in her house. It seemed like there was an invisible force field between them, keeping them separate from each other, and they hadn't so much as kissed since that night that wrecked everything. 

   Each night in bed, they slept turned away from each other, and Andie would find herself reaching out to him, only to think about his arm around the girl that he'd brought back to his apartment, and she'd pull away. Likewise, it would bring up her own interlude with Shane, and the guilt weighed heavy on her chest. But she didn't know how to stop obsessing over it. She didn't want to think about it, and she knew that she should focus on the fact that Negan was trying, so she needed to nut up and try, too.

   When they got on the interstate, she made her first attempt, reaching out for his hand, and it was like a dam broke between them as Negan grasped her fingers tightly, holding them to his chest.

   "I'm a joke," he muttered, and she gave him a quick glance, turning her head back towards the road, the storm picking up significantly. "I could see it all over that shrink's face."

   "You have issues, Negan. We all do. This isn't supposed to be a punishment."

   "I know that. But when I sat down with her and actually thought about the shit that I've done, up to and including creating a serial killer, it's hard not to punch myself in the dick, Andie."

   "Whatever your relationship is to the Heartbreaker, you're not responsible for his actions. He was fucked up long before you arrested him and you know that," she pulled her hand free to maintain control over the wheel, hitting an unavoidable puddle. 

   "And the fact that you can barely bring yourself to touch me?" 

   Andie's jaw tightened as the guilt washed over her along with a feeling of defensiveness, because it wasn't just because of him, and she turned on her signal, leaving the freeway. There was a gas station just off the exit, and she pulled in, leaving the engine running. 

   She was nearly soaked by the time she made it into the store, grabbing a coffee for Negan and a pop for herself. It was shitty to leave him sitting there, but she wasn't ready to verbalize the conflicting feelings she had, and when she ventured back out, he was behind the wheel, looking away from her.

   Sharing time was put on hold when Daryl called as they got back on the road, informing them that they were bringing Jane Doe out of her induced coma. Negan sped up slightly, telling Dixon that they'd be there within the next half-hour or so. 

   Since she was found, Jane Doe had become focus number one in the investigation, and Shane had ordered federal agents stand guard outside her hospital room around the clock. No one was allowed in or out unless he approved it, and all hospital staff had to be vetted, up to and including the surgeons. 

   A sketch of the suspect, cobbled together from the witnesses at the motel had been circulated throughout the state and to news outlets all over the country, though Rick and Phillip Blake were able to get the word out that Jane Doe had died. None of the details were released, only a blurb about an unidentified woman being found at a motel known for prostitutes. 

   The survivor was on the fifth floor, moved there without anyone outside of the doctors, nurses and law enforcement, and when Andie and Negan got off the elevator, they were greeted by armed guards that had their hands on their weapons. After flashing their badges and checking in, they were escorted to the nurse's station, where Daryl and Shane were huddled with a young, pleasant-looking doctor.

   "She's awake, but we need to perform neurological tests," the physician was saying, nodding politely as the trio became a party of five. "We have no idea what kind of permanent damage she's sustained from the lack of oxygen. You'll have to wait here. As soon as she's able to have visitors, I'll personally escort you in."

   "Thanks, doc," Shane said, shaking the man's hand, and Andie saw from his badge that his name was Carson. 

   The four of them walked back to the waiting room, and she sat down near the door to wait, her leg bobbing up and down impatiently. She needn't have bothered expending the extra energy, because it took over six hours for them to be granted access, and Shane went alone first, returning with a pale face and a frown.

   "Well?" Negan prompted him, backing him into an empty chair. "Did she say anything?"

   "She ain't talkin', and I don't mean because her throat's swollen," Shane announced, sounding frustrated. "She doesn't trust us to keep her safe."

   "Why the fuck would she trust cops? She's probably been fucked over by 'em in more ways than one," Daryl paced restlessly. "Let Saunders try. She might talk to another woman."

   Andie picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she tried to mentally prepare herself for this. It was bigger than an interview. It was a chance to ease the worries of Maggie Greene, Abe, Negan, and countless others. A way to bring back balance to her life.

   When she stepped into Jane's room, she wasn't just looking at a hooker. She was looking at a version of herself, more striking and disturbing than any nightmare she'd ever had before. Her eyes, watching her distrustfully. A nose not much different than Andie's, with tubes pushing oxygen through. Lank, stringy hair the same color as hers laying listlessly against the pillow. 

   Andie set her bag down and pulled up a chair, just to the right of Jane Doe, and she pulled out her badge, showing it carefully to the woman and extracting her iPad, opening it to a text screen. 

   "I'm Detective Saunders," she said with a smile, setting the equipment on her lap. "I know you've been through hell and back, but we need your help."

   The woman blinked at her but didn't make any other moves or acknowledgment that she was going to co-operate.

   "I'm not sure how much the other officers have told you, but we believe that the man that attacked you has been killing young women for the last three years. Is it all right if I show you something? It's not graphic."

   Nodding her head once, she shut her eyes for a second before tilting her head slightly as Andie brought up her pictures, holding it so Jane could see them.

   "This was Elizabeth Greene. She was only twenty when she was killed about six weeks ago." Scrolling to the left, she showed her a picture of Rosita. "She was murdered a week or so after that."

   Andie went through almost a dozen snapshots, each of a smiling young woman. 

   "They're all gone, Jane," she said, clearing her throat. "None of them survived. But you did. You faced the devil in the flesh, and you lived. You're the toughest person I've ever come across, and you have the chance to make sure that this fucker never hurts another living soul. I want justice for you. Justice for them," she tapped the screen as Jane's eyes closed. 

   Her breathing was ragged, and two fat tears slid down her cheeks as Andie held her breath, waiting to see if she was as strong as she thought Jane was. After what felt like a lifetime, the battered woman opened her mouth, a scratchy sound coming out.

   "Ca-"

   "Don't try to speak if you can't," Andie told her, reaching for a tissue and wiping the young woman's face before holding up the screen, switching back to the keyboard. "Do you feel strong enough to type?"

   Jane's battered, swollen hand raised up, tapping a few times on the iPad, and Andie stood up so that she could see what the girl wrote.

   "Cara. Your name is Cara?"

   She nodded, and Andie gave her a brilliant smile. "Welcome back, Cara."  


 

   David Smith was restless, and he stared at the monitor, willing her to come home. 

   This had been the worst week of his life since Mother died, and that was saying something. Not only had he been unable to finish his work on the prostitute, his face had been splashed across the airwaves, a drawing that looked so much like him that it had spooked him. So much so, that he almost left town, feeling like a failure. 

   But David wasn't a quitter. Just because he'd been seen at the motel with the hooker didn't mean they were onto him. All the news had said was that a woman had been murdered. No one insinuated that it was related to his other girls. 

   Still, between the sketch, the stills from the security camera at the jewelry store, and nearly being caught at Andie's house, he had to make some changes. 

   First was to dye his hair back to its natural brown color and ditch the blue contacts. The Mercedes was gone, as was the Charger. It fucking killed him to do it, but he sold the Piguet to a fence, one that Joey knew, pocketing the money and changing houses, moving to just a few streets over from Andie's.

   It didn't make sense to stay in Fairfax, but he wanted- no, he needed to be close to Negan and Andie. He would never be able to move on until they were his. And that meant that he had to find out how someone knew he was looking in her townhouse. 

   Taking a risk, he drove to her street during the busiest part of the day, wearing a blue jumpsuit that looked remarkably like the ones that the gas company used. Investing ten dollars in a clipboard, some paper, and glasses, he went from house to house on her street, pretending to read the meters, and when he got to hers, he walked with purpose to the right side of her building, stepping through the bushes and looking in the windows.

   Because he knew that the neighbors on her right weren't home, he didn't think that anyone would see him, and he peered through the glass to her living room, taking note of the fact that everything was still in the exact same spot as when he last showed up. 

   Same magazines on the coffee table. The same scarf tossed casually over the back of one of the dining room chairs. Even the pillow on the couch was in the same spot, sitting on its side in the crook of the arm. Everything was normal, except for the little flash of light that caught his eye, and he skittered back, his heart racing as he hurried through the yard to the street.

   She had a security camera.

   Fuck. This could be a goldmine.

 

 

   Negan stared into the night, driving carefully towards Fairfax. It was after eleven, and he was both buzzed and exhausted, glancing occasionally over at Andie, who hadn't said a word in over three hours. 

   Unlike Shane and the others before him, she'd gained Jane/Cara's trust, and the woman told them everything that she could remember, even though there were gaps in her memory. The height, the hair color, even the unnaturally bright blue of the Heartbreaker's eyes, known to her as David. 

   Every assault on her body was typed out in painstaking detail, from the way he'd wrap his hands around her neck, digging his nails into the soft flesh of her throat to the way he'd licked his lips when she was on the verge of death. All of it was now a part of her statement, though that wasn't the only thing that was playing on a loop in his mind.

   No, it was the stunning revelation that he'd asked Cara to call him Negan, and he renamed her Andie. Playing some sick game, some roleplay of death, and he shivered in unbridled rage, thinking about the way that Andie's face had gone pale as she showed him Cara's words. It was all there in black and white.

  _'He wanted me to call him Negan.'_

_'Said Andie was his ex and he just wanted to pleasure me'_

_'_ _I could feel was the pain, but I couldn't move after I drank the wine'_

   His first instinct was to spirit Andie away, to drag her to the airport and deposit her on a plane to Mexico. But he couldn't, because he promised her that he wouldn't make those kinds of decisions anymore without her. His second was to head to the nearest bar and drink himself to death because there was no way he was going to live through this.

   He knew it in his bones. Whoever this was, their obsession ran deep, and he'd spent the entire time that Andie wrote out her report in a shaking hand combing through every arrest he'd made, every guy he'd ever had put behind bars, showing Cara their mugshots.

   But none of them were the guy. There was no spark of recognition, no confirmation that he could go by. So, he guided Andie down to the garage, setting her carefully in the passenger's seat and driving her home to rest before the started another goddamned motherfucking day without catching this sick fucker. 

   As soon as he'd introduced himself, Cara's heartbeat had started to race, the implication of who he was and the fact that she'd suffered because of him making her sob, the first time she'd shown any true emotion. Once she'd learned Andie's first name, she typed frantically on the iPad, begging them to leave, but Andie was resolute.

   "No one, and I mean _no one_ , is going to hurt you," she'd sworn, placing her hand on the woman's forehead. "I talked to the Feds, and they're placing you in protective custody once you're cleared to be released, Cara. I swear to God. We're going to catch him. You'll be in the front row when they ice the fucker."

   When Negan pulled up to the curb, Andie jumped out before the car was even in park, sprinting towards the house with him right behind her. He quickly unlocked the door, and she threw her purse on the counter, spinning around in a circle as he stood helplessly, every word he wanted to say dying in his throat.

  _I'm sorry. I love you. Don't hate me_. None of it would come out as she let out a shriek, snatching an empty glass and flinging it at the wall where it shattered, sending shards everywhere. 

   Suddenly, she rushed towards him, and he planted his feet, bracing himself for her fists, but she leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Thank the fucking Lord she didn't hate him.

   "It's not us," she cried, kissing him between each word. "That's not us. _This_ is us."

 

 

   He was almost asleep when his laptop whirred to life, the white light startling him, and it nearly tumbled from his lap to the floor. Grabbing the side to steady it, he blinked rapidly as Andie and Negan came into the living room, Negan carrying her over to the sofa and falling on top of her.

   When David moved in nearby after finding out about the cameras, it took him less than a day to hack into her wireless internet and access the feed. Better than hiding in the bushes, he spent hours watching her life when she wasn't at work, both her and Negan moving around each other like two repelling magnets, both fascinating and frustrating him. 

   They avoided looking at each other, and they never so much as kissed where he could see. Deep down inside, a fear had taken root in him that something was wrong, that they would end their relationship, thereby cutting him out of their lives in a way. But they kept coming home, day after day, going through the motions, and he waited for closure.

   But this, this was perfect. Whatever they'd been going through, it was over, and he felt himself get flush with heat as he watched them tear at their clothes, giving him a perfect view of everything. There was no sound, but he could hear it in his head. The moans, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and he moved the laptop up his chest, as close as possible to his face.

   Andie was underneath him, her nails running up and down Negan's back, and David could feel it on his own spine, picturing when she would do the same to him. Her legs, bare and open, let him penetrate her, her head dropping back onto the cushions as her mouth formed a perfect 'o'.

   He was throbbing painfully, and he stroked himself slowly, not wanting to come until they did. After a few thrusts, Negan rose, turning her around, and he entered her from behind, both of their faces turned towards the camera, unknowingly fueling his darkest fantasies. 

   The way her back arched as she pushed into Negan's hips, the way he reached around her, playing with her nipples before sliding a thick hand down between her legs. The way her head dropped, her hair obscuring her face as she started to shake, he would never forget the sight until he could experience it himself. 

   Negan's thrusts sped up, and he hauled her upright, pulling her against his back as she leaned her head on his shoulder, tonguing his neck. His face contorted in pure pleasure, and he came just as David did, the three of them entwined in ecstasy, bonded forever. 

   He was still hazy with lust as he turned to the side, setting the screen next to him on the pillow. Covering himself with the sheet, he smiled sleepily as he ran his finger across their forms while they laid on the couch together. 

   Everything was going to be okay.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. David is a sick, sick puppy. But the good news is that Cara is awake and helping them on the path to discovering who he is. Will it be in time?


	23. Good Girls Don't

   The shower curtain opened, sending a billow of steam through the small bathroom, and Negan stood naked and wet, reaching for a towel as Andie brushed her teeth, putting her birth control pills back in the medicine cabinet.

   He gave her a studious look, taking in the fact that she was wearing her faded grey Fairfax Police Academy t-shirt, and he toweled himself off before stepping out.

   "I take it we're not screwing around tonight?" he took the red toothbrush from her outstretched hand as she ignored him, watching herself clean her mouth in the mirror. After spitting and rinsing, she patted him on the ass, walking out into the bedroom and sliding under the covers.

   "When has my nightshirt ever stopped you?"

   He emerged with the towel wrapped around his waist, rummaging around in his bag for a pair of boxers, and he slid them up underneath the material, giving her a smirk in the mirror.

   It was well after midnight, and they'd just gotten home from Savannah. Cara had been given the all-clear to be released from the hospital, and she'd been taken to a safe house by herself, Negan, Daryl, and Shane. She was going to be under twenty-four-hour surveillance, with four guards posted inside and outside the little cottage. There was no one else around the Snow White inspired abode, so they'd be able to see if anyone approached.

   She was still going to require therapy, both physical and psychological, but Andie found her to be made of strong internal mettle. There was no pity, no 'woe is me' whenever she interviewed Cara. Just a tired, hard woman that had led a shitty life. The Heartbreaker was by far the worst person she'd ever encountered, but only by a slim margin. She'd been detached as she told them about clients who'd sodomized her against her will, engaged in punches and kicks, spitting on her after they'd pulled out. It turned Andie's stomach, but to Cara, it was just a hazard of the job.

   "It doesn't have to be anymore," Andie had told her after Negan left to get some air, the atrocities that the woman who looked so much like her rocking him to the core. He loathed rape and violence against women, and the details she'd shared made him physically sick. "Once we catch this guy, you can leave that life."

   Cara snorted, clutching her chest at the action.

   "I am who I am. This is was I was born into, and it's what I'll die from."

   Still, she'd let them take her away, stocking up the cupboards with her requested food and purchasing her some new clothing, all sparkly and bright. Fancy makeup was also brought in, and Cara spent the first hour covering up the bruises on her neck and face, changing into a pink pair of leggings and a pink, leopard print tunic that camouflaged her bandages.

   "Is it frowned upon if I fuck that cute guard?" she asked in a gravelly voice, smirking as Daryl's face turned beet red.

   "Let's just get you settled and recovered first," Andie shook her head, putting away the last of the groceries.

   "There's something I forgot to tell you," Cara said, motioning for her to come over, and she perched next to the young woman on the couch, taking out her notepad. "When he was...choking me the third or fourth time, he mentioned something about his mother."

   "His mother?" Andie tamped down on the urge to shudder, but Cara only nodded.

   "Yeah, something about how Mother enjoyed it, too. I don't know if he was talking about himself or what, but even with the fucked-up roleplays I've been a part of, it still freaked me out." Cara clamped down on her arm, getting as riled up as she'd ever seen. "This guy is disturbed, Andie. The fact that he knows you and Negan means he's going to try to do something to you at some point."

   "Just worry about getting better," she tried to comfort the girl, giving her a reassuring look. "I won't be accepting any rides from strangers, and I've got all these kick-ass cops watching out for me, the same as you."

   Her thoughts on the way home were worrisome until Negan finally pulled into a little roadway diner, and they grabbed some dinner, with Shane and Daryl joining them.

   Another weird occurrence was the fact that Shane and Negan seemed to have put aside some of their animosity, and they spent the meal talking about the next move.

   Shane was heading back to Virginia to bring in some more agents, though he'd still remain in charge so that the locals could be involved, but there was a specialist there that he thought would be able to help.

   "She's great," he told them as Andie pushed her food around on her plate. "Her name is Andrea, and she single-handedly solved the Blue River Killer case."

   The Blue River Killer had operated for over twenty years, targeting elderly women in a thirty-mile stretch. No one was able to make any arrests until this Andrea was able to connect the women to a single anomaly. They'd all been using the same pharmacy, and it turned out that their pharmacist had been mentally disturbed, cleansing the world of sick people.

   During the trial, he'd insisted that he was doing society a favor, ridding the pharmacological world of people that were a drain on everyone else. Andie vaguely remembered the man, with a receding hairline and a pencil mustache, and it was clear to everyone around that he was insane.

   But that's what happened, wasn't it? The crazies blended in with everyone else because the world wasn't concerned about their neighbors anymore. Everything revolved around technology and their own personal problems.

   One person who was actively trying to better himself was Negan. Since the first therapy session and the same evening when Andie broke down her own walls, he'd been relentless in both trying to get to the root of his issues and to find the Heartbreaker, because he felt personally responsible.

   Each night, he'd confess something personal to her, whether it was benign, such as his favorite flavor of ice cream, or more serious, like the fact that his dad used to challenge him to boxing matches when he was a pre-teen, beating him so badly that he'd piss blood.

   Andie had seen a lot of things since she'd become a cop, but when it was someone that you cared about, bad stories were harder to hear. Her own childhood was vastly different, and she ached for the man that he could've been from the beginning if he'd been supported and loved by his family.

   "Is it sharing time?" she asked, turning to her side as Negan got under the covers, facing her.

   "This one's sexist," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "You sure you wanna hear it?"

   "Lay it on me, big fella."

   Underneath the covers, he threw his leg over her waist, ducking his head with a grin, knowing full well that he was going to annoy her.

   "Despite the fact that you are by far the hottest fucking cop I've ever come across, a part of me wants you to stay at home to wait on me hand and foot," he said, placing his finger on her lips as she tuned up to tear him a new asshole. "I'm just sharing," he reminded her, wincing when she bit his finger. "I picture you wearing that lacy, black dress that hangs in your closet, and you'd have nothing on underneath. Black stiletto heels and cherry-red lips."

   He was turning himself on, because she could feel him getting hard on her stomach, but she kept quiet, letting him continue.

   "I'd buy you anything your little heart desired, and all I'd want in return is your body and your love. Spread-eagled on the bed, waiting for me to get home after a hard day's work. You'd let me completely dominate you, fucking you so long and so right that you'd be breathless and unable to speak."

   Now, that was something she could get behind, and she stuck out her tongue, licking his index finger. Andie was a strong woman, but the secret part of her liked when he took control. At least, when it wasn't related to her job and her independence.

   "What would you do when you got home?" she asked, sucking his finger into her mouth as his pupils started to dilate.

   "First," he said after a pause, I'd make you strip off your dress, leaving just the heels on."

   Releasing his hand, she sat up, removing her shirt and turning to face him with her arms across her chest.

   "You're not fucking nude, yet."

   Andie tilted her head to the side, using one arm to slide her panties off, kicking them to the floor as her chest started to get flush, just by the way he was looking at her. He wanted to devour her, and she was already wet. "Then?"

   Negan reached for the covers, tossing them to the foot of the bed, standing up and coming around to her side as she watched him through half-lowered lids, her lungs working overtime to draw in oxygen.

   "Then, I'd make you remove my clothes," he growled, his voice dropping at least two octaves. She reached out to comply, but he snatched her wrist with his eyebrows raised, shaking his head. "With your teeth."

   The words sent a jolt to her core, and she got to her knees, steadying herself on his waist, kissing his stomach. Her tongue made a slow descent to his boxers, and she snagged the waistband with her teeth, working them down with some effort. He was as hard as a rock, the head glistening and pink, and when she got them low enough, they dropped to the floor.

   "Good girl," he praised her, cupping the back of her head securely. "Now, lick."

   Andie was at war with herself, caught between submissive and the urge to tackle him and force him to do anything she wanted, but this was his fantasy. He'd opened up to her, and she was willing to experiment, especially because she was in physical pain from the arousal.

   So she let her tongue dart out, just grazing his slit, capturing the liquid and licking her lips, coating them.

   "Again."

   Once more, she touched him only with the one body part, and he kept her head in place, letting his eyes shut as she swirled it in a circle, a continuous motion until he pressed forward until he was halfway into her mouth. "Suck. Like a good girl. Show me how much you love me, Detective."

   The ache was becoming a distraction, and it was only when he clenched her hair in his fist, creating a stinging burn that she hollowed her cheeks, looking up through her lashes as he locked eyes with her, making only leisurely movements with his hips, drawing out the sensation. Every time he pressed a little further, she could feel it between her legs, and a whimper escaped her throat, earning her a smile and a trickle of liquid in her mouth.

   "Do you want me to fuck you, sugar? Scratch that," he purred, pulling himself free as she dug her fingers into the skin on her thighs. "Do you _need_ me to fuck you? To take the pain away?"

   "Yes."

   It came out angrily, but his eyes lit up in satisfaction and he twirled his finger at her, instructing her to get on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed. With her head down, she did as he asked, and she felt the mattress dip as he got behind her.

   Her back arched as one fingernail ran from her neck to the base of her spine, circling around her ass and down each thigh before tracing the wetness that pooled between her legs. It was torture, absolute torture as she waited for him to fill her up, but he took his time, massaging her hips as he rubbed himself against her entrance, inching his way inside.

   As soon as he was all of the ways in, Andie went down onto her elbows, gasping when she felt a sharp sting and the echoing sound of his hand whacking her ass. Whipping her head around with blazing eyes, he winked at her, slamming his hips into her with a grunt.

   "Back up on your hands. I didn't say you could rest."

   Oh, he was _so_ going to get some payback, she decided, repositioning herself as he chuckled, a pompous noise that only made her more turned on. Such an asshole.

   He wasn't lying when he said he wanted to fuck her long and hard, and her legs were shaking when he finally reached around the front of her body, using his right hand to rub her to orgasm, thrusting roughly as he came in time with her, leaning over on top of her as she finally collapsed onto the bed, panting just the way he wanted.

   While he was still inside her, he softly kissed her cheek, running his nose through her hair, and his voice was as smooth as velvet.

   "Thank you, baby."

   Andie couldn't help but laugh at how quickly he'd turned it off, and she eased out from under him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

   "Next time, we're playing my game," she told him, kissing him back. "So you'd better rest up."

   "I'll play anything you want," he reached over her to shut off the light, laying on top of her for a few minutes more, eventually rolling to the side and rearranging her on top of his chest. "I love you, Detective."

   "I love you, too, Negan."

 

 

   "Do you _need_ me to fuck you? To take the pain away?"

   David could swear that Negan was speaking to him at that moment, and a whine bubbled up in his chest, his pants matching Andie's as he listened to them fuck. He wanted to be there, between them, letting Negan use him as Andie bounced on top of him, teasing him with her curves and her warmth.

   The camera just wasn't cutting it anymore. He had limited access to them because they rarely stayed in the living room, and he'd resorted to finally getting around to having a key made.

   When he'd first started sneaking into her house, David had hunted around, finding a spare key buried in her junk drawer, and he'd taken it to get a copy made, slipping it back into the exact same spot the next time he returned.

   He hadn't planned on using it until he was ready to make contact with her...but plans change. Since Andie and Negan started a relationship, he found himself obsessing over it, wanting to know what they talked about, how they spent their time together. It was both jealousy and the need to know who Negan was when he was with her. Did he tell her the same things that he told Mother? Did he love this girl?

   Apparently, he did. Each night, David would listen to the sounds of them getting ready for bed, the microphones that he'd placed in various spots around the upstairs level picking up both their conversations and their carnal activities, fueling his perverted desires and his darkest thoughts.

   Negan would share confessions with Andie, and _him_ , unknowingly, and for some reason, he hoped that he would bring up Mother. Maybe he felt some remorse for breaking her heart and causing her death, altering David's life irrevocably.

   He was a man filled with regrets, but Mother wasn't one of them, and David felt heartbroken. Sad, because if Negan had been sorry, maybe he wouldn't have to die with Andie. Maybe they could've had a future together.

   As he came down from his orgasm, he listened to the steady sound of their breathing, watching the moon as it shined through the window, and he told himself that it was almost time.

   Tomorrow, he would talk to Andie, so that he could finally put his plan into motion. From above, he knew that Mother was looking down on him, and he drifted off, feeling her lips on his cheek as if to tell him that he was doing the right thing.

   Mother loved him. Mother would always love him, even when he was bad.

 


	24. Tom versus Jerry

   Ace listened to Scarpetti drone on, one eye on the street and the other on the yellow door as he waited for signs of life.

   "Repeat back to me what I said," Scarpetti asked, and Ace straightened up in his seat, biting back the urge to sigh. For the thousandth time in the past three weeks, he thought about just cutting his losses and skipping town. The money he made wasn't worth sitting around watching a female cop so that he could trail her to Cara.

   "Do not lose the bitch cop again," he repeated back, Scarpetti chuckling at the emptiness in his voice.

   "Very good. I want to know where Cara is, and I want a description of the sick fuck that took her out of commission. But the bottom line is, you screwed the pooch, Ace. If you don't find her, no one will be able to find you."

   "Yes, sir."

   The phone disconnected, and Ace threw it on the seat.

   "Fat, motherfucking, cock-sucking prick," he muttered, twisting his hand around the car key that sat in the ignition. Everything had been fine. He'd had men watching the hospital around the clock, paying off staff to update him on Cara. When he'd found out that she was being moved to a secure location, he'd had four cars ready and waiting to follow, to see where she'd be and if they'd be able to steal her back.

   Scarpetti had made this a personal vendetta, to murder the guy that got away scot-free after roughing up and nearly killing one of his prized employees. He didn't trust that the cops would come through, and his reach extended much further than the so-called keepers of the law. Cops, judges, the dregs of humanity. All of them were on the big boss's payroll, and Scarpetti was a fucking elephant. He never forgot.

   The problem was, Ace was one of the people that fucked up in his eyes, and his neck was on the block with the attempted murderer's. So, he had to eat shit, sleep in his car, and watch the fucking bitch that looked like Cara until she led him to her.

  So far, the chick just went to and from the police station, sometimes leaving with a black-haired cop who looked suspiciously like Troy, the hustler that was strangled before Cara was attacked.

   Whoever this freak was, he sure had a type.

   Twenty minutes later, the cop came out holding something white in her hand, and he ducked down so that only his eyes were visible, watching closely as she walked out of her house and through the yard to a townhouse a few doors down.

 

 

   Andie shuffled through the mail as she sipped her coffee, setting the bills in one pile and the junk in the other. There was a pale blue envelope addressed to Negan from Mahahual, Mexico, and she smiled to herself as she ran her thumb across her father's crampy handwriting, intensely curious as to what he was writing him for.

   After putting it in a separate pile, she scanned the remaining envelopes, spying an electric bill for her neighbor, Mr. Dempsey. This was the second bill of his that she'd received in as many days. The first time, she'd slipped it into his mail slot, but she gathered up her bag and her keys, intending to walk it over to him before work.

   The sun was fully out as she stepped into the grass, the smell of it being freshly cut one of her favorite things in the world. A mower was running in the distance, and she kicked the clippings from her boots when she got to Mr. Dempsey's driveway. His front door was yellow like hers, and she used the knocker, hoping that he was awake.

   Pasting a smile on her face as the sound of the lock clicked, her grin faltered as a youngish guy opened the door, looking at her in mild confusion. For a split second, she thought that she was at the wrong house, and she quickly looked at the brass numbers by the door.

   "I'm sorry," she said, taking a half a step back. "I was looking for Mr. Dempsey."

   The man had brown hair and eyes, and he looked vaguely familiar as he opened the door a little wider, his face dropping.

   "I'm his grandson, Cole," he told her, with a trace of a Midwestern accent. "He passed away about three days ago."

   "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't know," she stammered, struggling to recall when she'd last seen him. There weren't any ambulances in the neighborhood that she recalled, but it could've been while she was checking on Cara.

   "Thank you," he murmured, giving her a sad smile. "He went peacefully, from what we could tell. I normally spoke with him every other day, and when he didn't pick up my calls, I had someone stop in to check on him, but he'd already passed on. I just got into town to settle his estate."

   "He was such a sweet man. I'm really sorry for your loss," she told him, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. Mr. Dempsey was older, but he'd always puttered around in his yard, planting flowers every spring and bringing the neighbors fresh zucchini muffins that he made from scratch. "I just wanted to drop off this bill that ended up in my mail, but if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to let me know. I live in the townhouse three doors down."

   She pointed to her house, and Cole stepped out onto the porch, nodding his head as he took a look. Something about him was so familiar, and she asked if he'd visited before, knowing she knew him from somewhere.

   "You're probably the fourth person that's told me that," he said, giving her a sheepish look. "I must have a doppelganger running around here somewhere. This is actually my first time here. I don't usually get out of Chicago much."

   "It must be quite a change for you." All she knew of Chicago was what she'd seen on tv and in the movies, and she weirdly cursed her lack of travel. Once they caught the Heartbreaker, she really needed to take another vacation. Images of her and Negan driving cross-country, Griswold-style made her nearly break out into a smile, and she fished one of her cards out of her purse, handing it to the young man who gave it a quick look, his eyebrows rising in surprise at her profession. "I would really like to attend calling hours if you choose to have them."

   "I'm meeting with the funeral director today. Grandad didn't want anything fancy, but I'd like to do a memorial service in the next few days as I get his estate squared away, so I'll definitely let you and the neighbors know when I get it set up. Thank you...Alexandra," he glanced at the card, holding out his hand.

   "Please, call me Andie."

   Nodding politely, he went back into the house, and she stood there for a moment, feeling sorry for him and morose about Mr. Dempsey's death.

   There was never a break from it.

 

 

   Negan leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk as he read Cara's latest statement. She was able to recall the Piguet, the way it cooled the skin of her jaw was David choked her, unable to move from the Ketamine that he'd dosed the wine with.

   All of Dwight's informants were now on the lookout for any buyers of the substance, and they would get a free pass if they helped to identify the Heartbreaker, courtesy of his boss, Phillip. So far, there hadn't been so much as a whisper, but Dwight was confident that someone would come through.

   "Look alive, dick. Feds are here."

   Daryl knocked his feet off the desk, shooting him a look as he pointed towards the door, and Shane came in with his blue jacket on, followed by a good-looking blonde wearing a black skirt, fuck-me heels, and a red blouse. Had it been even three months before, he would've been on her like white on rice, but as it was, he merely appreciated her curves as they got closer. Internally, of course. No way in hell was he going to have Shane trying to clock him for checking her out.

   Introductions were quickly made, and Andrea asked if there was a place that she could set up, heading towards an unoccupied office across the room.

   "I'd like to speak with you in private," she said over her shoulder, looking at him before disappearing into the room. Undaunted, Negan stood up and followed behind her, sitting down across from the bare desk as Andrea studied him, her head resting softly against her closed fist.

   "So, you're Negan," she smiled, and he grinned back, putting on his cockiest look. It was his defense and his armor, he knew from his sessions with Michonne, not just a natural response. But it was comfortable, like a second skin, and Andrea maintained the same easy attitude. "You're quite a guy, I've heard."

   "And then some."

   "So, I've been going over the cases," she leaned back, propping her legs on the desk, flashing her thighs. He kept his eyes on hers, and she smirked a little, clearly a test. "I'm not so sure that whoever this is was one of your collars. I feel like this is personal to this guy."

   "Meaning?"

   "This killer is fixated on you, particularly, and it's...hinky. This isn't just revenge for time spent in jail, detective. The fact that he's targeting women, and has now involved your current paramour is troubling. Even if it were just about sex, the intimacy with which he assaulted the prostitute that resembled Detective Saunders is a clear warning, at least in my eyes."

   "So...what?" he asked, the uncomfortable sensation of fear blooming in his gut along with the guilt. Always the fucking guilt, because everything he'd done in his life so far had come back to bite him in the ass, badly. "What are you getting at?"

   "I think you need to sit down and think long and hard about who could hold this much animosity towards you. The husband of a former lover? Someone that thinks that you screwed them over? Anything that you could tell me would be huge."

   "Lady, you have no fucking idea the number of women I've screwed in my life," he told her, losing his grin. "I ain't proud of it at the moment, but I can guaran-damn-tee that several of them were married or otherwise involved."

   "I'm not judging," Andrea assured him, one of her feet moving back and forth as she gave him the same smile. "I'm just trying to help solve a case. As I said, this is personal, and if you can at least narrow down the most volatile partners that you had, we can start checking them out."

   What a fucking nauseating task. Negan stood up without a word, stalking back to his desk as he fought off a wave of anger. He was sick and fucking tired of being judged. By other officers, his friends, and even society. So, he liked to screw a lot. Big fucking deal. He never stole a woman away from another man knowingly. He never promised anyone forever, and he sure as shit didn't lead them on. They all knew what they were getting with him. A good time in the sack. That's it.

   Two hours and one long list of every woman's name that he could remember, he walked back into Andrea's temporary office, tossing the paper on her desk and turning on his heel for the door.

   When he reached his car, he dialed Michonne's number, leaving her a message to call him back. He was fucking done, and he let the Charger rip once he got on the highway, heading for Fairfax.

   Andie may not think he was perfect, but he knew that she loved him. And he didn't need to be infallible for her. He could just be Negan, flaws and all, and she still trusted him to take care of her, to not fuck up again.

   He played absently with his phone while he drove, debating on whether or not to let her know he was on his way, but he finally just set it down, turning up the radio to drown out the thoughts of all of the women he'd fucked, unable to distinguish one from another. Hell, if they'd slept with him, they were all probably damaged in one way or another.

   The sun was just dipping down below the trees when he pulled up alongside the curb behind Andie's boring-ass car, and he stood next to the Charger, stretching his arms as he tried to shake off the day, staring absently at a strange silver car that was parked at the end of the street. Squinting, he tried to see if there was anyone inside, but it looked empty. Fuck, he needed to check in with that Judge friend of George's to make sure that they were still keeping an eye on things when he wasn't around.

   He wasn't surprised to find the door locked, and he pulled out his key, freshly given to him by Andie, letting himself inside.

   "You home, Detective?" he called out, tossing his wallet and keys on the counter, but there was no answer, save for the distant sound of music playing upstairs. Rubbing his stomach, Negan trudged up the steps, coming to a halt when he reached the bedroom.

   There were towels laid across the bed, candles lit, and all sorts of lotions and oils sitting on the dresser. Hot diggity-fuckin'-dog. At least there was going to be a happy ending to this squidfuck of a day, he thought, unbuckling his belt.

   He was just about to call out to Andie when the bathroom door opened, and he was bowled over by the sight of her. Her hair was piled on top of her head, a silky, short, red robe wrapped loosely around her tall frame.

   "Oh, my fucking God," he muttered, reaching towards her. "Tell me I've died and gone to Heaven."

   "There's no way you're getting into Heaven," she laughed, holding up her hands. "At least not anytime soon."

   She kissed him quickly, passing around him towards the bed, where she sat down, crossing her legs.

   "I've decided that tonight is my night to call the shots, and I'm going to have you give me a massage."

   "Done." Negan pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it behind him as he eased out of his jeans, positioning himself in front of her.

   "Hold up," she smirked, leaning back on her hands. "All I want is the massage. A full-body, muscle breaking massage."

   "And after?"

   "The oils are right there," Andie pointed to the dresser, turning onto her stomach and undoing the robe, exposing her bare back. She was going to regret this, Negan would make sure of it.

   He snapped open the top, greeted immediately with a spicy, sandalwood scent, and he straddled her waist, dribbling a fine layer of it down the center of her back, enjoying both the view and the way that his own body was responding to the situation. All of the tension of the day was slowly melting away, just from the sated smile on her face as she rested her head on her arms, patiently waiting.

   With slow strokes, he spread the oil around her back, using just the tips of his fingers to gently caress her skin, his dick twitching when she let out a moan of pleasure. Back and forth, he worked the muscles of her back, edging his hands lower and lower until they just brushed the swell of her ass, and she slapped at him.

   "Uh uh," she rumbled. "Thighs, please."

   It was all he could do not to pout like a child, but he swung himself to the side, kneading the flesh with purpose, watching the skin start to glow under the candlelight as Marvin Gaye played softly in the background. He nearly lost his mind when she turned over and he started on her arms, his knuckles brushing the outer part of her breasts, and he leaned over for a quick kiss.

   But Andie wouldn't give any ground, pushing him back with the same taunting look, holding up her leg for him to massage. He touched and worked every inch of her but the one part he wanted access to, and every time he dragged his fingers towards her core, she shut her legs, forcing his hands to another part of her body.

   Negan reached his boiling point when she finally let him graze his hands over her nipples, the slick, fleshy bundles hardening in his palms.

   "Please, sugar," he resorted to begging, kissing her neck and inhaling the thick smell that clung to her skin. "I need you."

   "How badly?" Andie opened one eye, stilling his fingers as they tweaked her left breast, arching her back. "How much do you need me right now?"

   Fuck, he never should've teased her. It was all coming back on him tenfold, though he wasn't above denigrating himself for this woman. For only _this_ woman.

   "I'll do anything," he breathed, nibbling at her jaw as she held firmly on his arms. "I've had a shit day, and you can make it better."

   She wasn't swayed, and he shuddered when she licked his bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth.

   "Good boy," she whispered, letting him go, and he dove on top of her, nearly sliding off from the oils as she laughed, sending a warm ball of fire straight to his chest.

 

 

   He held the business card up to his nose, smelling a faint trace of perfume and mint, possibly from the gum that she carried in her purse. Andie was still tan from her trip, and he was sure that all of her skin was warm to the touch, just like her hand when theirs had briefly touched, both in the grocery store and earlier today.

   David had held his breath when they first encountered each other, ready at once to drag her into the house if she recognized him. But like so many others who ignored the truth when it was staring them in the face, she brushed it off when he'd provided a weak reason.

  That's how people ended up taking rides from strangers or letting them into their house under the guise of, 'he looks okay, he'd never hurt me'. Fear of offending. It was beautiful. It's what made him so successful at what he did, because people always ignored the danger.

   He listened attentively to the moans that were just loud enough to be heard over the music, idly picturing her naked, pressed down into the mattress by first Negan, and then himself. Now that he'd made contact again, he ran through the scenarios that would keep him in her orbit without Negan knowing.

   It took him a few minutes to realize that the music had stopped, and so did the sounds of their lovemaking.

   "My dad sent you something," she said as the bed creaked. "It's on the counter."

   Heavy footfalls faded, returning after an appreciable amount of time, and the sound of material shuffling made him sit up, pulling the speaker closer.

   "He sent me a delivery ticket," Negan told her, his voice high and emotional. "He's sending me a box of cigars and tequila."

   Jealousy washed over him, the threat of Negan getting acceptance from Andie's father unfathomable. It ripped at his heart and shredded his insides that he didn't want Mother's, and he was so upset that he nearly missed the rest of their conversation.

   Andie got him to talk about why his day was so horrible, and that envy turned to fear. The new detective was dead on about who he was and why he was doing it. If Negan ever pieced together the women from his past...

   No. He never even knew about David from what Mother had told him. So, what were the chances that he'd name her as one of his dalliances? For once in his life, he didn't want Negan to remember her. At least, not yet.

   For all the revelations he heard while eavesdropping on them, none stunned him more than what was said next.

   "Are you coming with me to Sophia's meet tomorrow?"

   "I'll meet you there," Andie said in a sleepy voice, followed by the sound of the lamp switching off. "I want to go talk to Cara."

   Cara. Cara. _Cara._

   They lied. They lied to _him_. She was alive.

   He shot out of the bed with a roar, throwing anything that he could get his hands on. Picture frames, a vase. All of it was smashed against walls as the blackness took over, and he stumbled down the steps to the basement, picking up the baseball bat and standing over the body of Walter Dempsey.

   Killing the old man didn't bring him any joy. He was a simple means to an end, a way to get closer to Andie. But the darkness was there now, and the elderly man's skull was in pieces on the floor when he finally came back to himself, his hands sticky with congealed blood and bits of hair.

   The coppery stench clung to him like cologne, and he tossed the broken bat on top of the corpse, kicking the frail body one last time before trudging upstairs to shower.

   He had to get to Cara. And Andie was the vehicle.


	25. Road Trippin' and Fallin'

   "I'll meet you there in about...an hour or so."

   Andie curled her fingers against Negan's chest as he spoke with Carol, promising to meet them for breakfast before Sophia's latest match. He had a scar just below his collarbone on the right side, and she traced it lightly, thinking about how he'd gotten it. 

   He'd told her that when he was a rookie, he'd been out on patrol when a young woman came stumbling out into the street, and he'd nearly run her over. It turned out that she'd just been raped, and managed to escape. Negan, being the hothead that he was, left the girl with his partner and took off down the alley to find the guy. Because he went in blind, the rapist was hiding behind a dumpster and struck his arm around, lodging a knife in his chest. 

   The rapist got away, and Negan was rushed to the hospital with a punctured lung. When Andie asked him what he'd do differently if he could go back, his answer was classic Negan.

   "Not a goddamned thing other than to wear a vest."

   Andie could hear Carol ask if she was going to join them, and Negan told her that she had a few work errands, but that she'd be there in time for the meet. It was still early, but there was laundry to do and drawers to clean out so that Negan could have some room, but she had yet to move, too comfortable laying on his chest with the fan gently blowing across the bed. 

   She felt slightly guilty that he was living out of a bag, and she hadn't stayed at his apartment since the night he came home with a stranger. They were going to spend the rest of the weekend there, and she had to admit that she was ambivalent, and not just because of that. As far as she knew, Negan still had Lucille's pictures up everywhere, and a part of her felt odd. Out of place, really. Even though she'd never lived there, Lucille was a part of everything. 

   Negan still had the couches that used to be in their little house. The same dishes. Even the same bed frame. He hadn't moved on physically from the end of his marriage, and she wasn't quite convinced that it was just 'stuff' to him. The only problem was, she was afraid to broach the subject. They were moving forward with their relationship, but she had never lost anyone like he had, so who was she to tell him that it was time to set that part of his life aside?

   "You still there, Detective?"

   Andie forced herself out of her head, looking up into his eyes which were watching her carefully.

   "I'm here," she murmured, leaning up to kiss him. "Just thinking about Mr. Dempsey."

   He gave her a soft smile, rubbing her back as he slid his hand down to cup her ass. She did feel bad about her neighbor, and she made a mental note to call and order a deli tray for his grandson who was in town to clean out his townhouse and settle his affairs. Andie had never known her own grandparents who'd died when she was just a child, long before her mother did. 

   "What were your grandparents like?"

   "Trash, just like the rest of my family," Negan said in a bored voice, though she could see the pain in his eyes. Now that she knew what to look for, she could find it easily.

   "Alcoholics and emotionally closed off."

   "I'm sorry. I have no idea what mine were like."

   "Well, if they were anything like your dad, they were good people," he rolled her onto her back, kissing his way down her neck to her chest. Subject closed, according to him. 

   After they showered, cleaning off all evidence of the long night, the two of them walked out towards the cars, and Negan stowed their bags in his trunk, steering her towards her sedan.

   "Don't take too long," he warned her. "I'll send the goddamned cavalry if you stand me up."

   "Fuck off," she teased him, shutting the door behind her. Andie was the first one to pull out, and she glanced back in the rearview mirror to see him shaking his head at her with a smile.  


 

   As he watched her drive away, Negan's phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, not recognizing the number. He almost sent it to voicemail but decided at the last minute to answer, sorry that he did.

   "Negan? This is Andrea."

   "How can I help you?" he sighed, climbing into his car and starting it up. 

   "I wanted to thank you for the list," she said, the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard in the background. "We started going through it, and though we haven't made any significant findings, there were a few people who stood out, and I wanted to get your opinion. Do you have a couple minutes?"

   "To relive the shittiest part of my past? Why the hell not," he muttered, pulling onto the road. "Lay it all out, Agent."

   "All right, then," Andrea replied, completely unbothered. "The first person I want to ask you about is Kathy Livingston."

   "Who?"

   "Kathy Livingston," she repeated, but it didn't ring a bell. "You had her written down as Katey Livington. Upon further investigation, we learned she was briefly involved with you about ten years ago. Blonde, mid-forties at the time. Her husband was in jail for robbery at the time of your, uh, relationship."

   "Okay..."

   "So, she lived on Greensferry. Does that ring a bell?"

   "Yeah. I think I remember her now. Short, with big tits? Her hubby was pretty ugly if I recall. Missing a few teeth."

   "That's the guy. Kathy claims that one night after you left, she got a visit from her husband's friend Clyde. Apparently, he threatened to tell Joe Livingston that she was cheating on him while he was in the clink unless she screwed him."

   Negan shifted in his seat, nearly running a red light as he thought about the tired woman with the big breasts. It hadn't been a long affair, simply because she wasn't good in bed. She was one of those women that just laid there and expected him to do all of the work, and it was one of the last affairs he'd had before he found out that Lucille was sick. 

   "Clyde ended up telling Joe, and once he got out, he beat Kathy nearly to death. She was able to leave him after a few months, and she hasn't seen him since. We've done a check with his parole officer, but he's been MIA."

   "Fuck," he said, shaking his head. "What about the friend?"

   "Died about two years back. Beat to death outside of a bar."

   "Anyone else?" Negan asked in an empty voice. 

   "There was another woman named Siobhan Gallagher on your list."

   Ahh, Siobhan. One of the hottest women that he'd ever had, not that it made a fucking difference at this point. She was about the same height as Andie, with red hair that went down to the small of her back and a body that should be illegal. He'd gone back to that well at least a dozen times, despite knowing that she was married to another cop. 

   "She's still with Owen," Andrea said, accompanied by the sound of more typing. "He freely admits to hating you, but he's adamant that he forgave Siobhan for her indiscretions. Still, when we interviewed him, it didn't sit well with me, so we're going to have eyes on him going forward."

   Negan listened to her run down a few more people on his list, however, none of them struck anything inside of him. But, fuck, there were a ton more to go through, and the closer he got to Atlanta, the more unsettled he became. The city no longer looked inviting to him. It was more like a graveyard, the ghosts of his past roaming through it, never to be at peace. 

   Because of him.

 

 

   David chewed on a breakfast sandwich, switching lanes to keep three cars behind Andie's. They'd just gotten onto Interstate 16, and so far, there had been no indications that she was aware she was being followed. Whenever she'd change lanes, he'd keep a discreet distance, paying strict attention to their directions.

   They were just past Macon, still heading southeast, and he figured that they were heading somewhere towards the coast, possibly Savannah. He was still sitting on a festering anger that Cara was alive, and it was imperative that he find her and finish what he'd started. 

   Still, he would have to be patient and careful, much more so than he'd been lately, consumed by Andie and Negan. It was making him sloppy. Once he'd cleaned up his mess, there were some tough choices ahead for him. He couldn't stay in Georgia after.

   For one, there wasn't going to be anything left here for him. No one around could pique his interest the way that they could. Not to mention the fact that it was getting too difficult to continue his pastimes. He had the money and the means to move on, and when he was sated here, he would have to sit down and decide where he wanted to go next.

   Mexico sounded nice.

 

 

     
   There was a silver Camry a few cars back, Andie noticed, one that had been on the road behind her since she entered Bibb County. It never sped up, never slowed down, just maintained the same speed that she had. 

   Her hair was standing up on the back of her neck as she eased into the exit lane, deliberately getting off one stop early, where the 16 intersected with the 95. The Camry got behind a Tahoe, following her onto the loop, and she swung to the right, pulling in abruptly to a little gas station, the Tahoe laying on its horn as it zoomed past. 

   Andie turned in her seat to watch the Camry roll by, the window reflecting the sun back to her, leaving her unable to see who was inside. The car never slowed down, and once it was out of sight, she stepped out into the Georgia heat, scanning the road to see if it would appear, but it didn't. Only a succession of trucks and people off to do whatever they were doing on this steamy Saturday.

   The feeling of being followed didn't dissipate, but she chalked it up to her nerves, moving the car to the pump to refuel before going inside and grabbing a few snacks and drinks. She was almost there, and the fact that she hadn't eaten before getting on the road was catching up to her. 

   As she pulled out, she called Negan to check in, but there was no answer. Deciding not to leave a message since he was probably hanging out with Sophia, she got back on the interstate, driving to the right exit and starting the final leg of her trip, taking a long swig of her water. 

 

 

     
   "Negan, are you listening to me?"

   He blinked, turning his eyes toward Sophia who was watching him curiously. It wasn't like him to not answer her. When he was with the little girl, he was always doted on her, catering to her every whim. But ever since he got to Carol's house, he'd been distracted and irritable. 

   Coming here is a mistake. He wasn't good company, and he should've made an excuse, told them that he had the flu or something. 

   "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he told her, leaning his elbows on the table. "What were you saying?"

   "I said, the coach thinks I should try out for cross-country when I get to high school. He said I have the stamina for long distance, and I could even get a scholarship."

   "That's fu-, freaking amazing," he reached out and ruffled her hair, the sight of her smiling widely making his own grin more genuine. "You can do anything you set your mind to, Sofia. I've always believed that." 

   Negan could feel Carol watching him closely, and he let her chatter for a while, stirring his coffee until his phone rang again. This time, it was Michonne, and he excused himself, stepping outside of Carol's house and taking a seat on the porch. 

   She commended him for calling her when he felt overwhelmed, and he told her about his phone call with Andrea and the feelings that it brought up in him, the urge to once again push Andie away.

   "It's good that you recognize that it's a trigger for you Negan," she said as he took a cleansing breath. "But instead of trying to protect her, maybe you could lean on her. She's there to provide you with strength, the same as you are for her."

   "She has enough to worry about without me adding my fucking mistakes from the past to the pile."

   "Has she ever verbalized that she didn't want to know about your past?" Michonne inquired.

   "No," he said slowly, shutting his eyes. "We've talked about it a little."

   "And has she expressed any concerns about your feelings for her since you've made up?"

   "No."

   "Then I recommend that you be honest with her, Negan. Tell her about Andrea and the list. You don't need to seek forgiveness for what you may or may not have done. Actually, you just need one person's absolution."

   He rubbed his fingers across his forehead as he compiled the list in his head. Kathy, Siobahn, Tracey, Deanna, Jen. It went on an on, not to mention the ones whose names he never bothered to learn, just quick drunken fucks in the bathroom of the Tavern or any other seedy bar he frequented.

   "You need to make peace with yourself," she said gently as he expelled an unsteady breath. "Accept that you've done some things that you may not be comfortable with now, but forgive yourself. Whatever path you were on, you've set a new course forward, and that's okay. You're allowed to be happy, Negan. You're allowed to grow and change and to have good things happen in your life. From what you've told me, Andie's father has been very accepting of you, and if he didn't see your worth, the way that you care about his daughter, you never would've gotten his approval."

   "I know, but-"

   "You're able to recognize your struggles, but you need to learn to be proud of the good parts of you as well. You have a lot to offer the world, and you've already changed the lives of several people. Take that and hold onto it when you feel like the past is weighing you down."

   "Thanks, doc."

   "Anytime."

 

 

   Ace watched the map on his phone while he smoked a cigarette, the tracker that he'd attached to the cop's car doing an admirable job. He'd left twenty minutes after she did, the app updating her position every minute or so. 

   Right outside of Savannah, the car had finally gotten off of the freeway, and it was currently headed to the middle of fucking nowhere. But it was still moving, so he took the opportunity to take a piss and update Scarpetti. 

   "Good work."

   That was the highest praise he was ever going to get, and as he tossed the butt out, he got back onto the highway, getting off at the same exit the cop did. She had finally come to a stop on a little side road, and he drove towards it, finally feeling like he'd caught a fucking break. 

   As soon as he had a chance to case the place out, he'd call Scarpetti to send him some guys so that they could extract Cara.

 

 

   Andie pulled in behind the two standard-issued sedans that alerted everyone in the goddamned free world that the police were around, thinking that she should mention it to Shane. They needed to be inconspicuous, and they were advertising their position to anyone that happened to wander down Rottman Lane.

   As she got out, she was approached by Ted and Lester, the two guards that took the day shift, and she rolled her eyes as she showed her badge. They'd seen her several times, but she always had to identify herself, lest some stranger wearing her face tried to sneak in.

   "How's the witness?" she asked formally as Ted gestured for her to go ahead of him, and he shrugged noncommittally. 

   "Inside guard has been handling it. We don't bother the hooker."

   Andie whipped around to stare at him, and he gave her a cold look in reply. Ted was a prejudiced asshole, and if she found out he'd been giving Cara any trouble, she was going to make sure he was busted down to grunt work.

   The little cottage had a sandy, white door, decorated around the edge with seashells, and she turned the brass knob, calling out a muted hello. There was no answer, so she went through the cozy kitchen, down the hall towards the only bedroom, stopping short with a gasp.

   Scrambling out of the bed, butt naked was Daryl, as Cara laid curled up on her side with a happy smile.

 


	26. General Tso's Orders

   Cara was not nearly as modest as Daryl was, and she sat up with tits and scars on full display as Andie backed into the hallway, bumping against the wall with a thump.

   As soon as he was in his pants, Daryl shot out of the room, taking Andie by the arm to lead her into the living room. 

   "Daryl, what the fuck?" she hissed, yanking her arm free. "Have you lost your mind?"

   "No," he replied, glancing furtively down the hall towards the bedroom. "It ain't like that."

   "She's a witness, for fuck's sake."

   "Don't you mean she's a whore?" he glared at her defiantly, as if daring her to disagree.

   "That is absolutely not what I meant. Don't put words in my mouth. You're supposed to be watching over her."

   Cara came into the room as Andie clamped her lips shut, sitting down on the flowered sofa. Aside from the fact that she'd seen every inch of Daryl Dixon, the image of him with a girl that looked so much like herself was freaky.

   "He watches over me just fine," Cara told her, taking the spot next to her. "Daily, nightly, and oh, so rightly."

   "This isn't funny," Andie told her, watching as Daryl's face went completely red. "Nevermind the fact that you're still recovering from a physically and emotionally traumatic event."

   Cara reached out for Daryl's hand, holding it to her cheek before kissing the palm. "Can you give us a second, baby?"

   Daryl gave Andie a warning look before nodding, slipping out of the room after a second. The sound of the bedroom door closing punctuated the mood of the cottage. 

   "Look, Andie," Cara said, turning to face her. "I get that you're concerned, and I don't believe that you think I'm a piece of shit because of who I am and what I do. But what happens between Daryl and me is private."

   "I'm not trying to pry, but it is a big deal. If Daryl is emotionally compromised, it could affect how he does his job."

   "Uh, you and Negan are doing the dirty business," Cara reminded her with a snort. "Aren't you compromised?"

   "No, it's not the same," she said with as much bravado as she could. "One of us isn't a witness in a crime."

   "You're both still involved with this case. This isn't just because I'm bored or horny. I like Daryl. He's a great guy," Cara's eyes were as soft as she'd ever seen them, the hardness that had built up through a lifetime of pain and struggle slowly being chipped away. Despite what she'd been through, Cara looked happy. Who was she to try and take it away?

   "We haven't slept together yet," Cara told her, her eyelashes fluttering. "Daryl likes to sleep naked. I mean, even us pros need to take a break now and then."

   "Cara, you have to stop that," Andie took her gently by the shoulders. "Stop putting yourself down."

   It only pissed her off, and she shot Andie and angry look, reaching to knock her hands on, but wincing in pain instead. 

   "I'm not a fucking idiot," Cara told her, looking nothing like the other woman at the moment. "I don't expect a happy fucking ending here. But let me have this, just for now, okay? Don't shit on my parade."

   Daryl came stalking back into the room when he heard the raised voices, and Cara reached automatically towards him.

   "Take it easy, darlin'," he mumbled in his gravelly voice, helping her to her feet and wrapping his arms carefully around her, giving Andie a grimace. "I told ya already that I didn't give a shit about what ya did before."

   "I didn't-"

   Daryl cut Andie off, holding up one hand. 

   "DId ya need somethin'? Why are ya here?"

   "I just came to check on her."

   "Maybe you should just go," Cara said into Daryl's chest, her voice muffled. "I don't feel like I'm up for company right now."

   Andie refused to move, and Daryl kept her to close to him as he took her back to the bedroom, returning a few minutes later. She was still in the same spot, staring at the pictures above the fireplace. Set in corresponding frames, they showed a middle-aged couple in various parts of the house, surrounded by different people. Some were at a party and others looked like just informal gatherings. Whoever they were, they seemed happy. Obviously, they'd never been targeted by a serial killer.

   Daryl came back out, sitting on the overstuffed chair across from her, really ticked off. 

   "Ya know," he said after an appreciable silence, "she's been judged her whole life because of what she does and how she grew up. So have I. We have a lot more in common than ya think."

   "Daryl, I'm not judging her. I don't give a fuck that she was..."

   "A hooker. You can say it."

   "Okay, I don't give a flying fig that the was a prostitute. There's a lot more to her than that. I only care that she's as tough as shit and that she survived. I've seen and known working girls before. My only concern is that when you get emotionally involved with a vic, it can cloud your whole critical thinking set. If you care about this girl," Andie smiled as he continued to scowl, "all I'm saying is maybe you shouldn't be here as part of your job. I'm not going to say anything to anyone. Just think about it."

   "She's smart, Andie," he said, and she could hear the pride in his voice. "She could've been like you if she woulda had someone that gave a shit about her. I'm lucky I turned out the way that I did, and it wasn't because Merle or my parents were there for me."

   "I know she is. And I want her to make it through this with no more trauma that she's already had. I feel fucking horrible that she went through what she did," Andie said, a sudden lump forming in her throat as she acknowledged what she'd long ignored. "She went through it because she looks like me, and I'm sorry about that."

   "It's not your fault."

   Her head turned sharply to see Cara hovering in the doorway, watching her with a guarded expression. 

   "It's not your fault, and it's not Negan's," she said, rooted to her spot as if she would upset the delicate balance in the room by coming in. "It's David's. I saw the crazy in his eyes, and if it wasn't you two, it would've been someone else that he fixated on. He's just a fucked up human being that needs to be put down. He's a rabid dog."

   Andie could feel her lower lip trembling, and she stood up, brushing imaginary fuzz off of her lap, picking up her bag. 

   "I'll, uh, leave you two to enjoy your weekend," she said, giving each a tight smile before walking out past the guards, not bothering with a goodbye for either of them. Once she got in her car, she let the guilt choke out everything else, driving down to the end of the drive to cry alone.

 

 

   Negan tuned Ezekiel out with amazing ease. Years of practice had taught him that smiling and an occasional 'really?' went a long way towards portraying him as someone who gave a shit. The man wasn't unpleasant, but he wasn't up for listening to him wax poetic about a fucking tiger.

   He was just about to excuse himself to wish Sophia good luck when he spotted Andie at the fence, waving to the girl. 

   "I'll be back," he told Ezekiel, standing up and jogging down the bleachers past a little kid that nearly strangled him with a balloon string. 

   "I'm glad you came," he could hear Sophia say as he got closer, giving her a wink and holding his finger up to his lips. She grinned, reaching back and gripping her ankle to stretch her legs.

   "I'm sorry I was so late," Andie was saying, "I had to drive to and from Savannah. Any chance you need an old woman on your team who needs to stretch her legs?"

   "I'll stretch your legs later," Negan whispered in his ear, bracing himself as her arm swung out automatically, catching her wrist as she turned.

   "Don't do that," she snapped as Sophia giggled, punching him on the arm. "You scared the crap out of me."

   "Sorry," he sounded anything but, forcing her to face forward, hugging her from behind. "I thought you'd be here sooner."

   Sophia waved as her coach called her over, and Andie leaned her head on his chest as they watched her run over to her team, the girls forming a circle as they received a pep talk. 

   "That was a long fucking drive to do alone," she admitted, kissing his neck. "Did you have fun with the girls?"

   "Sure as shit did."

   It wasn't technically a lie, because after he spoke with Michonne, he felt marginally better, but it was still nagging at him, the list and the fact that he'd glossed over it with Andie the night before. 

   As the runners took their places, the two of them climbed back up the bleachers, and he let Andie sit next to Ezekiel as his buffer, knowing that she'd be way more interactive than he would. Carol wasn't fooled, and he got a scathing glare in response.

   He was able to stifle the voices in his head for the rest of the meet, cheering when Sophia won, and after the two parties headed off in different directions, he followed behind Andie as they drove separately towards his apartment. On the way, he called and ordered food for delivery, taking out their suitcases when they arrived.

   Andie took him by the hand, and they passed by the spot that they'd had their fight, both of them tensing briefly. Since he was barely there anymore, his apartment had a stale smell, and he went over to the large windows, sliding them open to let in some fresh air. 

   Negan went immediately to the couch, kicking off his boots and patting the spot next to him. Andie hesitated only for a second, but she sat down, turning to the side and curling her legs up beneath her.

   "Food will be here in about a half-hour," he told her as she bent her arm, resting the side of her head on her open hand. "I thought maybe we could talk about a few things."

   Her face dropped, and he immediately held up his hands. "I didn't do anything. I just wanted to talk about the list I told you about yesterday. Andrea called me this morning."

   "Go ahead."

   Without making eye contact but keeping a firm hold on one of her hands, Negan told her everything. How many women he could remember from the list. The fact that Andrea had already started contacting them and the concerns that she had. Even the fact that he held it together enough to call Michonne and her advice to let Andie in more.

   "It fucking sucks to know that not only was it a shitty part of my life, it made the lives of those women even harder. I fucked with marriages outside of my own and got people hurt. And my first instinct was to push you out of my life, once again, because I'm so fucking terrified that something's gonna happen to you. I don't want you to pay for what I've done."

   While he spoke, he could feel her inching away from him, and he didn't blame her. He was a disgusting excuse for a human being. 

   The buzzer sounded, announcing their food, and Andie shot off the couch to answer the door, rummaging around in her purse for a tip. He couldn't even drag himself off of the couch to help her. He just sat there as she let the delivery guy in, handing him some money and taking the white plastic bag of Chinese food. 

   Instead of carrying it into the kitchen, she set it down on the glass table behind the couch, propping herself on her knees as he stared at the floor. He saw her hand extend outward, and she pinched her fingers around his chin, forcing him to look at her. He could see the tightness in her mouth, but her eyes were clear.

   "While we haven't exactly had a normal courtship," she said, scooting closer to him, "I'm well aware of what I've gotten myself into. You are a complex, frustrating, intelligent man who sometimes sees the right road to go down and immediately takes the other option."

   Well, that was fucking hurtful, but she kept talking as she swung her leg over his waist, settling herself on top of him.

   "So does everyone else. Big fucking deal. You have no idea how happy I am to hear this shit."

   His mouth dropped open in surprise, but Andie smiled, laying her arms on the cushions beside his head, kissing him briefly.

   "The fact that you're working through this is awesome. I want to know these things, Negan. I want you to trust me enough to tell me how you feel without thinking that I'm going to judge you or wash my hands of this because I'm not. I'm in this for the long haul. Are you?"

   He didn't even have to think about it, because there were two roads before him. A lonely life of sex and no intimacy, sitting on his couch in his underwear eating fast food and working the next case, or having this woman on his lap any time he wanted, telling him that he was worth something. And one looked a helluva lot better to him for the first time in his life.

   "I want to fuck you for the rest of my life and make babies with you someday, Detective. I wanna get fat and bald and drink tequila in Mexico with George," he placed his hands on his hips as she made a face at him, feeling his lips twitching. "You're my goddamned dream girl."

   "Good," she said, the matter apparently settled in her mind, and he felt the weight of the outside world falling off of his shoulders, at least for tonight. "Now I have to tell you something."

   "What?"

   "I saw Daryl's dick."

 

 

   David fanned himself after the sun went down, watching as a random person or two drove in and out of the parking lot in front of Negan's building. He'd been here ever since he lost Andie outside of Savannah, waiting patiently for her to show up. 

   The self-directed rage that he'd felt at being outed had turned towards Cara, the fact that she'd slipped through his fingers again. It wasn't his fault. It was hers for being alive when she should've just done the world a favor and died. 

   His pulse had started to race when the Charger and Andie's car pulled in a little while earlier, and he'd kept stock still as they got out, completely unaware that they were being watched. They strolled inside with their bags as he watched intently, and seconds later, Negan appeared in the window on the first floor to the left of the entrance, opening them, unknowingly allowing him an unobstructed view into his apartment.

   From his car, he saw them on the couch, talking seriously for several minutes, and he hoped it was about him. How he'd taken over their lives. He deserved it for what they'd put him through. God, this was so frustrating. He wanted what they had, yet he felt the compulsion to destroy it at the same time. 

   Why couldn't _he_ have someone to talk to? To hold hands with? To tell his deepest secrets to and who wouldn't judge him. It wasn't fair. _'Life isn't fair, sometimes,'_ Mother used to say. _'We have to take the hand we're dealt and work with it, my darling boy.'_

   He was trying to, he really was. But stupid hookers, cops, and ghosts from his past kept trying to derail him, to take away his happiness. 

   David watched as Andie went to the door to get their food, returning and climbing on Negan's lap, his heart aching with sadness at such a personal act. No one had ever done that with him, not even Mother. 

   Andie and Negan left the food behind, going up the steps and out of his line of sight. He hadn't seen them for hours, and the parking lot was quiet, only two lights shining above him. He was just opening his door when a figure appeared from out of nowhere, creeping towards the windows that were still open, and he froze in place, torn on what to do.

   So, he did what he did best. He watched.

 

 

   Andie lifted Negan's arm from around her waist, slipping out of the bed in the moonlight. She was thirsty and hungry, the food that Negan had ordered sitting in the fridge. They'd never gotten around to eating, instead feeding off of each other after more revelations and she smiled to herself as she thought about him looking at her earnestly, pretty much telling her that he wanted to be with her forever.

    _Babies_ , she thought, snorting quietly as she crept down the steps wearing only his shirt. The concrete floor was cool under her feet as she went into the kitchen, feeling slightly guilty as she passed by Lucille's picture. The woman was smiling, and Andie pretended that she was giving her her blessing, pulling out a plate and taking the Chinese food from the fridge, loading up some rice and chicken and popping it into the microwave as quietly as she could.

   As the food rotated around, heating up, she leaned on the counter picking up the picture for a closer look. Lucille had been a beautiful woman, the joy in her face as she looked past the camera palpable. She could see why Negan had been so enchanted with her. Beguiling. It was the perfect word to describe her, and she ignored the twinge of jealousy that was snaking its way through her chest. Andie may have Negan's heart, but so did Lucille. She would have to share it with the other woman, probably for eternity.

   If she hadn't looked up when she did, she probably would've been in even bigger trouble. But she didn't, and she dropped the picture with a scream when she saw a figure in the darkness outside of the window staring at her, one hand on the screen trying to push through it. 


	27. Here's a Pen, Draw the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter as we start to put the pieces in place for a showdown. I hope you're enjoying!

   As soon as Andie screamed, there was a flash of white light, a loud popping sound, and the microwave behind her exploded, sending food all over her as she ducked down, her ears ringing. She was in shock, her adrenaline working overtime as her brain tried to analyze the situation.

   Someone was shooting at her, the bullets hitting the bar and the walls behind her as she flattened herself down onto her stomach. She hadn't been shot at since she wore the blue, and her thoughts spiraled to Negan who was still upstairs as far as she knew.

   Unable to see, she had no idea if the stranger was in the apartment or not, and time seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. She'd been shot at before, that wasn't the problem. But it was when she was expecting it, when she was mentally prepared. Here, she was in a fucking shirt and heating up food, and she had no weapon.

   Using one hand to cover her head even though the popping sound had ceased, she reached up and pulled out the silverware drawer, the bang of it hitting the floor louder than the bullets, followed by the tinkling echo of spoons and forks bouncing off of the concrete.

   "Andie!"

   She could hear Negan thundering down the steps along with the echo of someone running away.

   "I'm okay."

   Her voice was tinny and hollow, and she almost laughed due to the ridiculousness of the words. How was she possibly okay? Was Negan?

   Glass rained down over the counter, and she poked her head out from the side, knife gripped in her fist to see Negan leap through the window into the parking lot.

   "Negan, no," she yelled, scrambling to her knees. He was out of sight before she was able to get more than a few feet, cutting herself in several spots as she sprinted towards the remains of his window. She could hear the screech of tires, and red lights grew smaller until they disappeared behind some trees.

   Andie was panting and terrified that Negan was gone, taken or run down, but he came jogging over gun in hand, clad only in his underwear. She'd never been afraid of him in the entire time that they'd known each other, but there was a malevolent darkness in his eyes that made her take a step back, holding the knife in her fist.

   When he saw the look on her face, whatever black rage that was there slowly faded away, and he expelled a long breath, letting the gun dangle on his fingertips as he swung his leg over, stepping in carefully.

   "Sugar, it's going to be all right," he said slowly, reaching for the knife and taking it carefully out of her hand. The far away wail of sirens was the only noise, and lights were coming on all over the building as the two eyed each other warily. "Honey, you're hurt."

   Andie tore her gaze from his, suddenly aware that her legs were wet, and she looked down to see several trails of blood running down her shins. It wasn't surprising since they were surrounded by shards of glass, and they stood in the same spot, unable to move through the debris until both the police and fire department came roaring up.

   "I'm naked," she hissed, pulling his shirt down as far is it could go, and he gave her a helpless look as a fireman crawled into the apartment, asking them both if they were okay. Wisely, Negan had tossed the gun towards the couch, since it was a tense situation, and as he nodded yes, the guy went towards the door, unlocking it so the police could enter.

   This was real. Really real, and it hit her like a freight train, sending her straight into Negan's arms. No longer was it an abstract reality for her, just some stranger sneaking into her home and lurking around. He'd actually come for them, to try to kill them, and her vision blurred as she breathed into his chest, unable to hear what he was saying. All she was able to do was take staggered breaths as his chest vibrated.

   He could've died. She could've lost Negan forever.

   Upstairs as they were questioned about what had taken place, his phone rang over and over, though neither of them could hear it.

 

 

   Cara felt the throbbing in her chest as she rolled over, grunting lightly when she sat up, poking at it gingerly. In addition to the fucking pain, it had started to itch as it healed, and though it was carefully wrapped for the night, she couldn't resist running her nails over the gauze, fighting the desire to rip it to pieces so that she could have a good, long scratch.

   Daryl was laying on his side, one arm casually thrown over his face, and she wished that she was better so that she could lay her body on top of his, just to have the physical closeness. He never pressured her for any more than she was able to give, but it wasn't about the sex for her.

   Cara had fucked more people than probably most of Atlanta, and it never scared her as much as baring her soul to him. Daryl was perfect, or as close to perfect as a person could be. He was surly at the best of times, and he didn't know how to be tactful if his life depended on it. But he was honest. He was so, so honest in everything he did and everything he believed in.

   She'd tried her usual bullshit with him, making him blush with her lewd language and innuendos, but he never bit back, never took her up on it. He'd just watch her with those stunning blue eyes, like he could see right through to her soul, leaving her feeling awkward and exposed. It threw her off, not having her body to fall back on, and slowly, through hours of it just being the two of them, they both confronted the things that held them back, and it brought them together.

   He thought she was beautiful, not because of her physical attributes. He thought she was a pure soul that was bogged down in the confines of society, and she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he'd still care about her when this was over.

   Silently, Cara slipped from the room, walking down the hall to the only bathroom, leaving the light off as she peed and washed her hands. The moonlight bled through the window, casting half of her in light and the other in brown darkness. That's who she was right at that moment in time, struggling for the light as the blackness held firm onto her, refusing to let go.

   If she lived through this and they found David, she was going to change her life. Maybe go back to school and get her diploma. She certainly had enough customer service skills, she thought with a sarcastic laugh. Maybe she could work at a store or something.

   She was jolted from her thoughts as light from the front of the house shined down the hall, and she stepped out cautiously as the sound of several cars screeched to a stop. It sent her heart into a skittish rhythm as guns fired, shouts rising above the fray, and she fled to the bedroom as Daryl nearly plowed into her with his own gun drawn.

   "He found us," he muttered, trying to steer her into the room, but she dug her nails into his forearm, dragging him back as she shut the door.

   "It's not him," she said, yanking him towards the back window, feeling her chest start to throb in protest. "It's Scarpetti."

   "Get under the bed," he growled, but she shook her head as someone kicked at the front door.

   "You have to go," she begged, reaching for the window to unlatch it. "If they find you, they'll kill you."

   "I ain't leavin' ya here," he looked at her like she was crazy, his eyes flitting towards the hallway as the sounds got louder. It wouldn't take them long to break in, and she shut her emotions off, lifting the window as quietly as she could.

   "If you die, you can't rescue me," she said coldly, slapping him across the face to get his attention. "Get the fuck out of here. Now. Scarpetti won't hurt me, Daryl. Please."

   Her voice broke on the last word, an interminable silence filling the room despite the commotion outside of the bedroom. Just when she thought it was hopeless, that he'd make a foolish last stand, he grabbed his shirt off of the floor and dove through the window, and she shut it just in time, turning as the door opened and Tommy, Ace's number one guy filled the entrance with his hulking shoulders and big fucking gun.

   "Jesus," she breathed, smoothing back her hair as she slipped into her old persona, squashing down everything that she could inside. "Make more of a fucking racket, why don't you?"

   "We been looking for you, Cara," he said, his voice so deep that it made her stomach turn. "Boss is anxious to talk to you, to make sure you're okay, and you just up and disappear without a trace."

   "Fuck, Tommy, it's not like I had a choice," she said, walking slowly towards the dresser to fish out some clothes, feeling bare and exposed in just a nightshirt. Loud steps echoed on the hardwood floor, and Gus, flunky number two joined Tommy just outside the door. "They brought me here, ya know?"

   "You could've called," he said in an accusatory voice, stalking past her towards the window as she tried to control her hands to keep from them from shaking. _Daryl, please run._

   She bent over, stealing a glance towards him as he stared out into the night with his gun at his side.

   "Where's the other cop that's supposed to be watching you?" Gus asked, sidling up next to her as she stepped into a pair of leggings. "Ace said there was another one here this afternoon."

   "Must've bugged out earlier while I was sleeping," was all she told him, using her foot to feel around under the bed for her shoes. Gus, ever the fucking gentleman, bent down, and he grunted as he pushed them towards her, holding her firmly by the elbow as she slid them on. "Where's Ace?"

   "Taking care of the cops in charge of the case. That chick that looks like you and the other one that looks like Troy, the other whore that died a few weeks back. What's up with that, anyway? This guy gotta thing for hookers or something?"

   "No fucking clue," she muttered as Tommy finally turned away from the window, seemingly satisfied that there was no one else around. "Can I take my shit with me?"

   "Let's go," Tommy said, pointing towards the door, and she walked slowly forward, praying that Daryl would find her again as she was forcibly driven back to the life she thought she'd left behind. Who was she kidding? She'd never be more than a piece of meat, one that Scarpetti had bought and paid for, and now Andie and Negan were probably dead, leaving her with two fewer people to save her.

 

   Negan paced back and forth in the waiting room, every step he took making him more and more unhinged. He was on the verge of losing his shit when Andie finally resurfaced, looking exhausted, the direct opposite of him. She turned her tired eyes towards him as he shot forward, holding up her hand to tell him to wait.

   After a few more murmured words to Detective Mendelsohn, she finally gave him the attention that he was craving, taking him by the hand. He'd been done with his interview for over an hour, and despite his threats, pleading, and finally begging, his co-workers refused to let him have access to her. All he wanted was to make sure that she was safe, even though he knew that his precinct was the safest place she could be.

   It was just after dawn when they were allowed to leave, and he put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her out into the grey light to a waiting patrol car. The ride back to his apartment building was long and filled with tense silence, and he wasn't sure what to say for the first time in his life. It was fucking stupid to try to assure her that they were going to be okay. Both of them knew that they were in too deep at this point.

   So instead, he sat in the back with his arm around her, pressing his lips to the top of her head as he talked to Lucille in his mind. _If you're up there, Lucy, watch over her. I know I don't deserve it, but I need this girl. I need her to be all right._

   As they pulled in front of the entrance, the sight of his broken window covered with yellow police tape felt surreal, and for just a second, he had the urge to tell the cop to keep driving, to just say fuck it and leave everything inside behind. But Andie sat up straight, and Juan, the patrolman came around, opening the door to set them free.

   "Would you like me to come in to make sure it's secure, sir?" Juan asked, but Negan shook his head.

   "We'll be fine," he lied.

   The black and white drove off, and Negan walked in front of her to the main door, cringing when he saw more yellow tape on his door. His Captain, Blake, had given the all-clear for them to return, and he pulled it off, balling it into a wad as he stepped inside, taking in the wreck that was his life in the dawning day. Glass was everywhere, his furniture was all askew, and he let out a groan as he rounded the corner to the kitchen.

   Lucille's picture was lying broken on the counter, her face smiling at the hell that had become his life. Carefully, he plucked the photo out of the frame, wiping it before tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans. When he glanced up, Andie was watching him with a stony face and he felt shamed for some reason, but she didn't say anything, she just walked to his pantry, retrieving his broom and turning her back on him.

   "Andie-"

   "Don't. Just don't. Not right now."

   Her voice cracked, and he crossed through the glass towards her, stopping only when he heard his phone ringing. Like the coward he was, he kept moving, sprinting up the steps to see that it was Daryl.

   Negan pressed the green button, talking before he even put the phone to his ear. "Now's not a good time-"

   As if his life wasn't already on a downward spiral, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise when Daryl started shouting, completely out of breath, and he sat down on the bed. He fell onto the bed to be more accurate. "What?"

   "Cara's gone, I said," he yelled, sounding desperate. "Scarpetti's men killed the guards and took her. We have to find her."

   Negan's hand reached out for his alarm clock, the closest thing he could find, and he threw it towards the wall, watching as it shattered into two pieces, both of them flying in different directions.

   They were fucked, and both men knew it.


	28. The Road Trip From Hell

   Cara's head knocked against the window as the Mercedes made a sharp turn right, waking her with a start, and she lunged forward instinctively, letting out a cry when the seatbelt pressed into her chest.

   They were back in Atlanta, pulling into Scarpetti's palatial compound, the wrought iron gates opening slowly in the morning light. They'd been on the road all night from Savannah, and she'd successfully avoided Gus and Tommy's queries by pretending to be asleep. She'd done it for so long that she'd actually passed out, and her body was stiff with pain.

   She was dreading everything about being back, mostly because she didn't know if Daryl was okay or if he was even able to get ahold of anyone else. When she was led out of the safehouse to the waiting cars, two bodies were laying on the porch, her night guards. Deke and Jones were a lot nicer than the day ones, though she put on an uncaring air, her body feeling like lead with each step she took.

   Tommy waved the other two guys on, and the SUV peeled out into the night, leaving her with her least favorite wiseguys. They weren't mean so much as they were just fucking dumb. Too stupid to be any more than hired muscle, and their conversations skills were lacking.

   Armand Scarpetti lived in the Versailles of Georgia, a monstrous white home with gilded columns and a balcony that overlooked the grounds, the only house for at least two miles. It was her first time here, and the gossip on the street dwarfed the reality. The drive was made up of red cobblestone, circling in front of the entrance around a fountain that was probably bigger than her apartment.

   Water was bubbling down a golden goddess, her breasts on display as her right hand held a pitcher that poured the liquid over her head, and Cara stared in awe at the obscene wealth. All of it coming from the backs of men and women like her, trapped in his web. You didn't leave Scarpetti's employment. No one did.

   A hulking beast of a guy wearing sunglasses and a three thousand dollar suit opened the door, helping her to her feet as he spoke into a microphone that was built into his cufflinks.

   "Package is here, boss."

   Jesus Christ, she didn't even have a name, she thought bitterly. Just a fucking package.

   "Take her into the ballroom," the man instructed Tommy, who took her by the elbow, walking her up the path to the front door. It was made of some sort of blonde wood, she had no idea what, and in the center of the frosted glass, an etched 'S' left no doubt whose home it was.

   Cara barely had time to glance around the foyer, with its shiny marble floor and double staircase, Tommy taking her to the right down a hallway that was all windows on the right side and expensive paintings on the left. Scarpetti in a throne-like chair. An older woman, maybe his mother, in a black dress and veil holding a rosary. Still another of the Tuscan countryside.

   At the end of the hall, there were a set of doors already open, and she was whisked into the ballroom and deposited at a white and gold table, long enough to seat at least forty people. There was no one else in the room, just her and Tommy, and she ran her hand along her bandage, feeling as small as she ever had.

   The floor was made of checkered marble, and the chandeliers were set on low, the crystals twinkling above, even with the light streaming in from the outside. Tommy crossed his arms as he stood at attention, and the doors on the opposite side of the room opened as Scarpetti came strolling in.

   He was every stereotype of a gangster, all rolled into one. Tall, with jet black hair and three-day stubble, he positively reeked of power and confidence, and had it been even a year earlier, Cara would've given her right eye just to meet him. Scarpetti had eyes so brown that they were almost black, with a strong chin and muscles that made him the most imposing man in Atlanta, if not the entire Eastern seaboard.

   The man was gorgeous, and he knew it. How could he not? He had hundreds of men and women kowtowing to him at every turn, and he gave her a heated smile as she tried to control her emotions. She was nervous, agitated, and downright terrified even though she'd done nothing more than her fucking job for him, getting raped and mutilated in the process.

   Three bodyguards trailed behind him, the combination of their fancy shoes on the floor creating a galloping sound as he approached, and she put her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.

   "Cara, so good to see you," he said, like they were old friends who were just catching up. "You must be hungry." Scarpetti snapped his fingers, and one of the bodyguards hustled out of the room, leaving just two, herself, Scarpetti, and Tommy. He took the seat across from her, dismissing Tommy with a look, and her throat went dry.

   "First of all, I want to apologize," he told her as her eyes widened, but he just shook his head sadly. "You never should've been put through what you did. I know some violence is an occupational hazard, but this-" he waved his hand towards her. "This is just unacceptable."

   "There was no way to know he was a killer," she said softly, wondering why she was trying to justify any of this, but he was unmoved.

   "It's Ace's job to make sure that my girls are safe when they're working, and he failed."

   The icy tone made her shudder internally, and if he wasn't such an asshole, she would pity her pimp. But he was, so she didn't, averting her eyes.

   Daryl.

   His name kept repeating itself in her head, even as Scarpetti studied her. There was no way to tell what he was thinking, but he smiled, leaning forward to get a better look.

   "I'd like to know everything about this guy, Cara, so that we can find him."

   "I...uh...he was a white guy," she stammered, the memories of his hands around her throat making her feel like she couldn't breathe. "Probably early thirties, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Said his name was David, but he could've been lying."

   "What else?"

   "He was driving a Mercedes. Black. I think it was pretty new."

   Scarpetti turned to one of his henchmen, who stepped up beside him. "Call all of our shops. Find out if they've gotten any Benz's in the past month or so and give them the description of the guy. Did you get a look at the license plate?"

   Fucking hell. She shut her eyes as she tried to remember that night when she was standing on the corner and he pulled up. All she could bring to mind was the letter F and the number 2, and she told him that was all she recalled.

   The guard nodded once, disappearing from the room, which was now down to three occupants. It only made the massive room seem smaller as more of his focus was on her, and she took a ragged breath.

   "Any scars? Any mention of anyone else?"

   It didn't matter how innocuous the detail. Scarpetti wanted to know because he'd find a way to make use of it. His influence ran far and wide, and if he knew as much as the cops did, it would be a race to catch the killer, and Cara was positive that the sick fuck would be in for a slow death if the mob caught him first, not that she cared about that. She only cared about Daryl.

   "The only other thing that I remember is he was wearing a nice watch," she told him, her eyes widening when she looked at his wrist. "Like that."

   He was surprised, and she was damned sure that Armand Scarpetti never got startled. Rising out of his chair, he walked around the table to her, holding his arm out in front of her face.

   "How similar, Cara? Tell me exactly."

   His voice was deep and smooth, the promise of security and safety if she pleased him, and her body started to tremble as she studied the silver timepiece, knowing exactly how it would feel against her chin.

   "It's that one, just like what you're wearing," her eyes watered as he kept it close to her face. "I remember those three circles."

   Cara flinched when his hand moved closer, but he merely cupped her cheek with his palm, the skin warm and soft. Armand Scarpetti had never done an honest day's work in his life, and his manicured hand was the proof. He tilted her head up, giving her a smile that would make her weak in the knees any other time, but it only served to scare her.

   "Thank you, Cara. You'll be safe here."

   "I'm not leaving?"

   He laughed lightly as his eyebrows rose.

   "I can't have you out there on the streets unprotected, can I? Not when this bastard is still in the wind. You'll be my guest for now, where you'll be safe."

   His hand tightened slightly around her jaw, and she struggled to swallow as he bent down so that they were face to face.

   "I can do what the pigs can't, Cara. I'll find him, and you'll be there when I rip him apart. The cops can't keep you safe. They couldn't even protect you from me."

   He expected a thank you, and she gave him a grateful smile, fighting to keep her head still when he ran his thumb across her cheek.

   "Now, let's eat."

 

 

   Rick Grimes was the last one to arrive, shooting through the door laden down with the world on his shoulders. He'd been informed of the situation involving Negan and Andie while they were at the Atlanta police station, but as he was on his way in, he received a terse phone call from the Captain of the Savannah police department, delivering an even worse blow, and he changed course to head to the safe house.

   Between his problems at home and the stress of having a serial killer in his backyard, Rick was ready to lose his mind. It was hard enough to try to manage his personal life with a spouse that constantly seemed disappointed in him. Throw in a job where everyone in his sphere was either being targeted or peripherally involved in danger and it was enough to send him to an early grave.

   Even now, Lori didn't seem to have any empathy as he stumbled from the bed in the middle of the night, dressing in the dark.

   "You're going to Atlanta now?"

   In the stifling confines of their bedroom, he could see her sitting up against the pillow with her arms crossed, like he was sneaking out to go to the bar or something.

   "Yes, I'm going now," he said evenly. "Andie was shot at, Lori. She's my employee and a friend. It's my job to be there. I have to find out what's happening."

   "Well, there's nothing you can do at this hour, so why not wait until the morning?"

   "Because I don't have a nine-to-five job," he finally exploded, grabbing his holster off of the dresser, attaching it around his waist as she turned on the light. "We can't keep having this same fight over and over."

   "Because your job is more important than your family," Lori leveled him with a glare and a mocking voice. "It always has been. You leave at the drop of the hat for them, but you can't be bothered to be on time for Carl's baseball games or even dinner. How do you think that makes me feel?"

   "Carl doesn't want to play baseball. You're the one that signed him up," he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, tired of having to defend himself every day. This wasn't the way he imagined his life going, and he wondered where all of her joy went. There was a time when all she did was smile at him, when just a look would make his heart fill with happiness, and he couldn't recall a time recently that they weren't both looking away from each other. "It's not always like this and you know it. We have to solve this case, Lori. When things slow down-"

   "Whatever you say," she rolled to her side, facing away from him. "Lock the door when you go."

   He always did.

   Before he left, he opened Carl's door, studying his face as he slept. His son looked content when he slept, the easy life of a ten-year-old who hopefully didn't worry that his parents weren't nearly as happy as he was.

   While he drove, he sipped on black coffee and thought about Michonne instead of his wife. They'd had frequent interactions since she'd started working the Heartbreaker case with him, and she was intelligent, freakishly so. Her insights were always carefully thought out, and he was ashamed to say that when he looked at her, he felt giddy, like he did in the early days when he and Lori were dating. Rick couldn't quite put his finger on it, but when she spoke to him, it was like she valued his opinion. There was no second-guessing his judgment or gentle sighs, just an acknowledgment that he knew what he was talking about.

   He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed his phone ringing on the seat, and the number came up from Savannah. When he answered, he was told that the only witness in the Heartbreaker case was gone and two dead agents were left outside. The only one to survive was Daryl Dixon, and he spent the next three hours on the phone with the Atlanta P.D. and Shane trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

   Daryl was still at the safe house when he drove up, smoking a cigarette as officers milled around the yard and in the house, and as soon as he put the car in park, he was greeted by Kevin Sattler, his Savannah counterpart.

   "Thanks for comin'," Kevin shook his hand. "We've had a devil of a time keepin' him here until you arrived. He's hell-bent on getting back."

   "Well, we just lost a key witness along with some good officers, so I can't imagine he'd want to stick around."

   Daryl stomped towards the car, and Rick could see that his eyes were bloodshot, either from lack of sleep or from losing Cara. Whichever the reason, Rick wasn't going to get to spend much time examining the scene, and Kevin said he'd send the forensics over to Blake as soon as he had something to give.

   "Let's go," Daryl barked, slamming the door, and Rick waved before getting back in.

   "I need to know what happened," Rick said as they drove away, turning on his brights, illuminating the deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

   "Scarpetti's goons took her."

   "How?"

   "Whaddya mean how?" Daryl glared at him. "They fuckin' rolled in and killed Jones and Deke and forced her to go with them."

   "Well, how did you get away?"

   Daryl looked uncomfortable, shying away from him as he rubbed his face angrily.

   "Cara made me go out the window. Said they'd kill me if they found me. I didn't wanna leave her, but she said I'd be able to get her back. We just have to figure out where they took her."

   He didn't reply, but if Daryl thought that they were going to be able to take on Armand Scarpetti, he was even worse off than Rick thought. He was a small-town cop, and he had no interest in tangling with a known mobster.

   By the time they finally made it back to Atlanta, he was hopped up on caffeine and nerves, and when Daryl left him in the parking lot, he took a second to just get his shit together, sending Lori a quick text to let her know where he was. Of course, he received no answer, and he walked with heavy steps into the building, directed to a conference room on the third floor.

   Inside, Andie was sitting at the table, staring off into space as Negan spoke with Shane and a few of his agents. Daryl had already found Dwight, his buddy from vice, and they were going back and forth in hushed tones. Before he went over to check on Andie, he met up with Phillip Blake, who looked as worn down as he did.

   "We gotta quit meeting like this," Blake quipped, and Rick smiled tiredly. "Everybody take a seat."

   Andie was still zoned out, and when Negan sat down next to her, he put his hand on her back, his face hardening when she flinched away from him. Rick sat down on her other side after nodding to Negan, and she inched her chair towards him. Reaching out, he squeezed her hand in a show of solidarity, and she gave him a disbelieving look, like they'd both just stepped into an alternate reality.

   Blake leaned against the blackboard, clearing his throat.

   "I know that we've had a jacked-up night, but we need to figure out where we're going from here," he said, looking from person to person. "Given what happened to Detective's Saunders and James, and now with the added fact that our witness has been abducted, we're sitting in the middle of Shit Creek without a paddle."

   "It's Scarpetti. It's all him," Daryl growled, fidgeting in his seat. "He's got her."

   "Did you see him take her?" Shane asked, drumming his fingers on the table. "Are we sure it's not the Heartbreaker?"

   "It ain't him. It was more than one guy. Cara said that he'd come for her. We've gotta get her back."

   "I'm in agreement with you, but right now we've got no proof that it was him, since you didn't actually witness it."

   "Are you fucking kidding me right now? It was him."

   "I know that," Shane's face was beginning to take on a reddish hue, and he stood up. "But we can't just roll up on Armand Scarpetti and demand that he give us this girl. He'll have us for harassment faster than you can blink. We need to get proof that she's with him."

   Rick could feel Daryl's rage building next to him, and he spoke up before anyone ended up in a fist fight, looking to Dwight.

   "You deal with a lot of his lower level employees, right? Can you feel them out? See if they're willing to provide information, or at least give us a jumping off point?"

   "I have a few people that I can lean on," Dwight confirmed. "If we give them immunity, there are a few people that will talk. Scarpetti's got buildings all over the city and beyond, so she could be anywhere. It's going to be a matter of narrowing it down."

   The conversation continued as ideas were thrown out, though Andie was the only one that didn't talk, and when they took a break, she stood up abruptly, leaving the room as Negan stared after her unhappily.

   Rick followed after a minute, searching the hallway but not finding her until he went back downstairs. She was sitting on the steps outside with her head bent down on her knees, and he perched next to her, gazing into the parking lot.

   Out of nowhere, she started to laugh, the sound a mixture of bitterness and hysteria.

   "Andie..."

   "I'm sorry," she snorted, wiping her eyes. "I'm trying to get a handle on this, but it's just too goddamned ridiculous."

   "What is?"

   "Just...it was bad enough when I had a serial killer fixating on me," her shoulders were shaking, "but now, after spending the night thinking that he'd finally come to get me, I find out that it's the mob. I mean, what the fuck, Rick? How did we end up here?"

   Her laugh gradually turned to sobs, and he put his arm around her, letting her soak his shirt. As crappy as his life was, it paled in comparison to hers, and he said as much.

   "And I thought my marriage problems were bad," he murmured as she looked sharply up at him. "At least Lori hasn't put a hit out on me."

   Andie looked shocked for about two seconds, and he was just about to apologize for being an asshole, but she busted out laughing, a genuinely amused sound, and he waggled his eyebrows at her, not even minding when she wiped her nose on his collar.

   "We'll get through this, Andie. I won't let anything happen to you. None of us will."

   "I know," she said after a protracted silence. "But we have to find Cara, and not just because she's a witness. She deserves better from us. From life, for Christ's sake."

   He couldn't disagree, but he did wonder why Negan wasn't the one out here making sure she was okay.

   "Let's get in there and figure it out, then."

   On their way back in, he stopped at the vending machine, buying a Snickers bar and handing it to her. If only chocolate could solve all the world's problems, life would be so much easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a Rick narrative to get a little different perspective. I hope you enjoy!


	29. Scenes From a Hotel Room

   Andie slid the key card into the lock, waiting until it turned green to open the door, and she touched the light pad, illuminating the large hotel room that would be her home for the duration of the Heartbreaker case. Phillip, Shane, and Rick had made the arrangements, given the fact that not only were she and Negan being targeted by the killer, they now had Armand Scarpetti gunning for them as well. 

   Daryl had been placed in a separate hotel for security reasons, and they were now being guarded by federal agents, one of which was going to be stationed outside of their room. Negan was hauling up their bags from his apartment, and she left the door open for him, not bothering to wait. Instead, she went directly into the bathroom, turning on the shower and locking the door as she sat on the toilet, waiting for it to heat up.

   She didn't even know where to begin to try to get a grip on how the past twenty-four hours had unfolded. Going from a leisurely weekend with Negan to being shot at, losing Cara and him making her feel like an afterthought, Andie knew that trying to discuss it with him right now would be fruitless. They were fried and on edge, and she just wanted to go to bed, but she didn't start to undress until the doorknob turned slightly, letting her know that he was in the room, and she stood up to get cleaned up.

   After speaking with her dad on the way to the hotel, she had to thank God that George had Gabriella in his life to keep him from flying back to Georgia. He'd been irate that she waited to tell him everything that was going on, though he placed none of the blame on Negan. Nope, it was all her, and she felt like she was ten years old again when she'd gotten lost on a rare vacation that he took her on. 

   She and George had been on a hiking trail in the Blue Ridge Mountains when she spotted a doe and it's baby just off to the side, and her childish curiosity led her astray, following the pair as they meandered through the underbrush before finally shooting off, their white tails twitching. By the time she realized how far she'd gone, it had taken over two hours for her father to find her, and he'd gripped her upper arms, shaking her so roughly that her teeth had knocked together.

   "What did I tell you, Andie? You never listen," he'd yelled at the top of his lungs as she cried. "You never go off on your own. How could you be so stupid? I raised you better than that."

   He'd been afraid, she knew that later on, but the words hurt as much as his tight hold on her, and she could hear it in his voice all the way from Mexico. Even as an adult, she still wanted him to trust her, and it felt like he was just waiting for her to get lost again. 

   Andie shut off the water, taking two of the towels for herself as she wrapped one around her head and the other around her body, bracing herself when she stepped back into the bedroom, but Negan was nowhere to be found. One of the key cards was on the dresser, and her bag was sitting on the ground next to his. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, she closed the drapes so that the room was dark and quickly threw on her sleeping clothes, hoping to be asleep by the time he came back from wherever he was.

   Despite what she'd been through, she fell asleep within minutes, a heavy slumber that no amount of trauma could break through, and she only woke when her hip started to throb from laying in the same spot without moving. Her eyes went immediately to the clock, and she blinked tiredly when she saw that it was after nine in the evening. 

   A light snore sounded from the other side of the room, and she turned on the little bedside lamp to see that it was Negan. He was sleeping on the couch, and his eyes snapped open, the light making him squint as he rolled over, turning his back on her. For some reason, it pissed her off that he was acting like a martyr, and she reached for the phone, calling room service. 

   "How may I help you?" a young woman asked as she reached for the menu, scanning it quickly. 

   "Yeah, this is room 1212," she said in a sleepy voice. "Can I order a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke, please?" 

   The little part of her conscience told her to order Negan something as well, but she ignored it, adding on a piece of chocolate cream pie, and she slammed down the phone as she sat up, crossing her legs. She could see him breathing rapidly, and she waited for him to flip out on her, which he did after about thirty seconds.

   "Maybe I should just get my own fucking room."

   "Do whatever you want, Negan. We're not paying for this."

   He sat up, throwing the extra blanket off of his legs, and she turned on the television as he stalked over towards her with his hands on his hips. He looked like hell, but she felt even worse, and she refused to meet his glare, flipping through the channels until she found an old Friends rerun, tossing the remote onto the bed next to her.

   "What the fucking fuck did I do, now?" he went to stand in front of the television blocking her view. "Did I lead a gangster to my house, putting you in danger? Did I not fucking try to protect you? Is it my fucking fault that Cara's gone? Fucking tell me, Andie, what the fuck did I do wrong that's got you so motherfucking disgusted with me that I can't even touch you without you acting like I'm a piece of slime?"

   Was he serious? He couldn't possibly be this ignorant, and she shook her head in disbelief.

   "You think this is about that?"

   "Then what?" he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air, getting back into that dark place that scared her. His eyes were nearly black again, and she waited a beat before pulling the covers up to her chin as he turned the tv off, planting himself in front of her again.

   "When you and I started to get serious and you told me more about Lucille, I came to the understanding that I was always going to have to share you with her," she told him, watching as his face went from furious to stunned. "You'll never get over her, apparently, and I figured that with time, it would get better, even though you're still using all of the furniture that was in your old house and keeping pictures of her everywhere. I get it, on some level. I'm not happy about it, but I get it."

   "This is about Lucille? I don't-"

   "After everything we went through last night, the minute we get back to your apartment, the first thing you do is seek out Lucille."

   "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

   She could see the denial all over his face, and a part of her felt bad, like she was overreacting, but he had no clue how much it hurt her that he would walk away from her and let out a pained sound, like he'd lost her all over again. He may not have realized it, but as she stood there watching him pick up Lucille's photo, he ran his finger lovingly over it before sticking it in his pocket. So, she told him, and he took a step back from her, shaking his head rapidly.

   "You literally walked over my blood to get to her," she said, finally meeting his eyes as he sat back down on the couch. "There were bloody footprints on the floor, and I stood there thinking, 'I'm never going to have him to myself.' And I wish that I was the kind of person that could accept that, but I don't know that I can, at least not the way it is right now, Negan." 

   "Andie, I love you," he put his head in his hands, and she got up and knelt in front of him, resting her arms on his knees. "I'm sorry if I made you feel...like you were an afterthought."

   "I love you, too," she told him. "I meant what I said when I told you that I was in it for the long haul." Pulling his hands away from his face, she needed him to look at her, to really see what she was saying since it was written all over her face. "I get that Lucille is always going to have a piece of your heart. I just need to know that I have the rest, that I'll be the number one in your life."

   "You are the number one, sugar," he reached down and hoisted her onto his lap, leaning back so that she was against his chest. His arms were firm around her waist, and she looked up into his eyes, the sadness there making her feel even worse. "I didn't do it to upset you. I barely realized what was going on at that point. I just saw the picture shattered, and I wanted to hang onto it. It's all that's left of my marriage. But if you need me to get rid of it, I will. That's how fucking much I love you, Detective."

   She sat up and slid to the spot next to him, fighting the urge to cry because she was angry and mournful. 

   "I don't want you to rid Lucille from your life, Negan. She was your wife, and I'm not a monster. I told you last night that I wanted to know what you were thinking and feeling, and it goes both ways, so I'm trying to open up to you and share how I feel. I don't expect you to just forget about her, and maybe if your relationship didn't end with you feeling so guilty, it wouldn't be as hard for you to move on."

   Taking his face in her hands, she kissed his cheek, moving back when he tried to make it more.

   "Can you let go of the past? To move towards the future?"

   "I _want_ to," he assured her, searching her face. "I will. You're fucking _everything_ in my eyes, sugar, and I'll make peace with it, I fucking swear to God."

   "Okay."

   It was all that she could ask for, at least for now, brushing aside the fleeting thought that she was pushing too hard and that her demands were unreasonable. She wasn't going to break up with him over it, but she absolutely didn't want to spend the rest of her life wondering if every time he was lost in thought, it was because he was thinking about Lucille. If it made her an asshole and selfish, then she was just going to be a selfish asshole.

   Andie let her hands drop and as he bent to kiss her, she stood up, walking to the phone and calling the room service back. Negan looked astonished that she'd rebuffed him, but she duplicated her order, patting the bed when she hung up the phone, and he came towards her as she stretched out, leaving him some room.

   "I can't believe you slept on the couch," she eyed him as he laid his long body next to hers. "I've never kicked you out of bed."

   "You looked so fucking sad and pitiful in the bed that I couldn't bring myself to be anywhere near you. I thought that you blamed me for the attack, and I didn't want you flipping your shit if you woke up and I was next to you."

   "I don't blame you," she sighed, adjusting her head on the pillow. "I blame David or whoever the fuck he is. How many lives has this asshole ruined? The only silver lining on this is with Scarpetti involved, he'll have nowhere to hide."

   Negan snorted, and she edged closer to him, running her toes along his shin. "Yeah, if only Scarpetti hadn't decided that you and I were in his fucking way, it would be perfect."

   He glanced down at her legs, frowning as he studied the cuts along her knees, and he sat up, directing her to turn onto her back. Lifting up her right leg, Negan ran his thumb across the healing cuts, placing his lips against each one, and she swung her leg over his head, the skin that he'd touched feeling warm and tingly. After doing the same to her left leg, he kissed his way up her thigh, fingering her shorts with raised eyebrows.

   How they could go from a fight to this was a mystery to her, but Andie lifted her hips into the air, keeping her legs straight as he slid her clothes off, grazing his thumbs over her nipples as she got goosebumps all over her bare skin. Negan knelt over her as she dug her nails into the backs of his arms, and his voice would've made her shiver if she wasn't already doing so.

   "Allow me to make it up to you for my earlier transgressions," he murmured, dipping his head to lick at the skin on her neck. 

   "Negan, you don't-"

   He clapped his hand over her mouth, stifling the soft moan when he moved down her chest, playing with one nipple lazily while sucking on the other. Unable to do anything else, Andie continued to grasp his arms, her fingers twitching every time he wrapped his teeth or nails around the sensitive area, finally panting in relief when he let go of her mouth, using his now-free hand to raise her thighs, setting her calves over his shoulders.

   Andie could feel his warm breath between her legs, the anticipation of what was coming almost as alluring as when he actually made contact, swirling his tongue around in a slow circle. He chuckled when she gasped, their eyes finding each other as he did what he did best, use his mouth. 

   He was so good at this, so able to figure out what she needed, and she cried out his name as she saw stars, the spasms making her jerk upright, and she tried to pull him up towards her even though her legs were still around his neck. 

   "Goddamn, sugar," Negan breathed, wiping his lips as she dropped back down, her legs shaking when they hit the mattress. He crawled back up, resting his weight on top of her, and she just managed to wrap her arms around his neck. "You nearly rubbed my ear off of my head."

   "Sorry."

   "I'm not," he smiled, pecking her on the lips as room service knocked at the door. "Totally fucking worth it."

   When he got up to get the food, she put her shirt back on, forgoing the pants, instead covering up her legs as he checked in with the guards to make sure everything was okay. As she always was after an orgasm, everything was just a little bit better, and their problems didn't seem as insurmountable. 

   The smell of hot food made her mouth water, and she dug in as soon as Negan set the tray on the bed, not even waiting for him to get settled, turning up the volume on the television as Ross and Rachel fought over an eighteen-page letter, snickering happily. She looked down to see Negan watching her, a series of emotions crossing his face. 

   "Are you okay?" 

   "You know me well enough by now to not be shocked that this is how I roll," she shrugged, placing a fry between her teeth and leaning down, letting him bite off the other half as their lips met. "I have a problem and I deal with it," she said after chewing the crispy potato. "Dwelling's not my thing."

   "Ouch."

   "I wasn't talking about you. I was referring to myself only."

   Their problems weren't over by a long shot, not even their personal ones, but she loved Negan and she found strength in him, especially when he didn't find it in himself. Everything else was just going to have to be one step at a time. 

   And it started with going home to get her things in the morning, whether Negan liked it or not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a talk that they needed to have, but buckle up, because we're getting ready to go off the rails!


	30. And So It Begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the other chapters, there will be multiple viewpoints going forward as we get into the meat of the story, so to speak. If anything is confusing or hard to read, please let me know. Otherwise, enjoy!

   The next morning while Negan was in the shower, Andie sent a text to Shane, asking that he send an agent to drive her home to get her things. He answered back, questioning whether or not Negan was aware, and she told him not yet. A bubble popped up with those little lines before disappearing, and she shook her head in exasperation before he finally texted back that a guy named Darren Kline would be arriving in an hour.

   When the bathroom door opened, she set the phone down and got out of bed, stretching first to the ceiling and then down her toes as Negan brushed past her, patting her on the ass. She'd hung up his clothes in the closet, leaving out his favorite jeans and white t-shirt, what she'd come to feel was his uniform, and he cracked the curtains to let some light in.

   "I thought we could go into the station to learn a little more about Scarpetti," he told her, toweling his hair as he stood there naked, testing her resolve. "I don't know dick about him except what I've seen on tv, so we've got a shitfucking ton of stuff to catch up on."

   "I'll meet you there later," she told him as she walked into the steamy bathroom, brushing her teeth when he appeared in the doorway with a suspicious look.

   "Why the fuck would you need to meet me there?"

   "Because I'm going home to get some of my stuff," she said, spitting out blue foam and brushing the hair out of her face. "Shane's sending an agent named Darren Kline to escort me."

   "Are you out of your everloving mind?" he snapped, folding his arms. "You're not going anywhere without me."

   "Yes, I am. I don't want us going back to Fairfax together. We'd be sitting ducks."

   "Then get someone to bring the shit, Andie. You're not going home and that's my final word."

   He turned around and walked back into the bedroom, putting on his shirt while trying to step into his pants at the same time, and she got out her makeup bag, fixing her face and hair before coming back out to him glaring at her. She stepped in front of him, grasping the collar of his shirt in her right fist, waiting calmly until he looked down at her, but he was still pissed.

   "I'll be fine," she whispered, rising on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. "I know you're worried, but I'll be safe. I'm not staying long."

   "No, you're not," Negan insisted, completely unmoved and not swayed by her attempts to placate him. "If you think I'm stupid, try again. You're not-"

   "I want my stuff, and I need to go home to check my place. I want to know if anyone was in there, and I'll be in and out."

   "Nope."

   Okay, now she was getting irritated, and she dropped her arms, reaching around him for her own clothes as he pretended to be a statue. Dressing in the exact same outfit as him, she picked up her gun holster and strapping it around her chest, finally sitting on the unmade bed as he stood in the same spot.

   "I'll call Rick on the way and have him send a patrol through my neighborhood to do a sweep," she said, ignoring the patronizing look on his face. "I need to do this, Negan. I can't let this push me so far out of my own life that I'm afraid to go and get my stuff."

   "Stuff that means nothing," he replied, stalking towards the door. "Do what you want, Alexandra. You will anyway."

  He was gone before she could ask him what the fuck that meant, the door closing with a click. Moving to the window, she waited a few minutes, and he appeared, climbing into a black sedan without looking up, and he was gone in seconds, out of the parking lot towards downtown Atlanta. Him calling her Alexandra felt wrong, like he was in cahoots with her father, and now they were both disappointed in her.

   Darren Kline new Shane well, and after a brief introduction, he spent the entire ride to Fairfax telling her stories about him, many of which jibed with the man that she spent formative years with. Taking the lead on a search and rescue, the first one in on a ten-million-dollar drug bust. It was classic Shane, and she finally connected the dots in her head, the similarities between him and Negan. They were so much more alike than they were different. Apparently, she had a type.

   Both of them were forgotten as soon as they arrived in the Fairfax city limit, and she looked around as if she'd never seen the place before. The older buildings, coated with years of smoke and grime, the bustling streets with new and older cars and even more trucks than anything else. The newer development that she lived in, and she reached for her gun automatically as they turned onto her street, her eyes roaming for anything out of place.

   As they pulled up to her townhouse, a black and white drove by, Simon nodding once at her before continuing the slow crawl past.

   All right, she built herself up as the two of them stepped out of her car, walking casually towards her door. Everything is fine. This is your home. Get your shit and get back to Negan, even if it's just to prove him wrong.

   It was quiet inside her home, only the persistent thrum of the air conditioning as she led Darren inside, shutting and locking the door behind them. There were two coffee cups sitting on the counter, and she placed them in the sink, turning on the water to clean them as he did a quick sweep of the lower level first, jogging up to the second floor after. By the time she'd dried and put them away, he was back down, giving her the all-clear to go up and pack.

 

 

   David nearly exploded from happiness when his laptop, which had been upsettingly quiet for two days, sprung to life, the camera in Andie's townhouse showing him that she was home.

   Ever since he watched the figure outside Negan's apartment fire on them, he'd been consumed with anger, despondence, and worry. Someone was in the know. Someone knew something he didn't, and he was positive that it had something to do with him. He'd nearly run the guy down to try to help, but it would've been like shining a spotlight on himself, announcing that he was there. Watching. Waiting.

   So, once Negan had gone back to his home and the stranger jumped into a waiting car, he'd slowly pulled out, passing the police and fire on their way to the large building. Naively, even for him, he'd assumed that Andie and Negan would be home within twenty-four hours. But they never showed.

   Instead, he'd observed and waited, and he noticed something odd. A blue Cadillac that parked on their street, only leaving for twenty minutes at a time. It never stayed in the same spot, but it never left the street for more than that same twenty minutes. He spent hours watching it, growing more and more certain that the noose was tightening around his neck, and the time had come for action.

   In between keeping one eye on Andie's camera and the other on the Caddy, he made plans and booked new transportation. He bought plane tickets and found a new home. The time had come, he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. It wasn't the way he wanted to have it go, because it should be about him, but he had to accept the fact that it was soon to be over.

   David shut out all of the lights in Mr. Dempsey's house, locking the door and tossing the key as he carried the potted plant that he'd hastily bought, adding a bow to make it look like it had come from the funeral of said man. It was his way into the house, and his 9mm pistol with the accompanying silencer was tucked behind his shirt, ready for him as soon as he got inside with Andie and the other cop. A brand new pair of handcuffs were in his pocket, itching to be used.

   Her door opened before he even stepped up onto the porch, and he stepped into the role of Cole Dempsey, grieving grandson, blinking in surprise.

   "Oh, you must be Negan," he stuttered, taking a step back when the man advanced on him with a warning look. "It's nice to meet you."

   "Who are you?" the guy asked, looking him up and down for any dangers. "What are you doing here?"

   "I-, I'm Cole, from a few houses down?" he made it sound like a question, "I met Andie a few days ago. My grandfather passed away, and she wanted to go to the service, but I couldn't reach her," he stumbled over the words, feigning nervousness. "I thought I'd bring her this plant from the memorial since she wasn't able to attend. I just happened to be on my way out when I saw her pull up."

   "Wait here," the man said tersely, shutting the door in his face. He wanted to grin, but he kept up the appearance of a nervous Nellie, looking around awkwardly as the plant trembled lightly in his hands.

   When the door opened again, the man waved him in, taking the plant and inspecting it as he turned his back on David, setting it on the counter. By the time he turned around, David had his gun out and pointed at him, shooting him in the head before he could reach for his own.

   Thank God the air conditioning was running, and it muted the popping sound when the bullet left the chamber, causing a bloody crater to form in the cop's forehead. He buckled where he stood, and David lunged forward, catching him under the arms to let him drop slowly to the floor.

   "I'll be right down, Cole," Andie called out from upstairs, and he grunted lightly as he dragged the agent towards the downstairs bathroom.

   "Take your time."

   It took a lot of effort moving a body. They didn't call it dead weight for nothing, and he was slightly sweaty by the time he got the bathroom door closed, checking his shirt before going into the living room and sitting on her couch in the exact same spot that Andie and Negan had fucked, feeling like a dirty little boy with a very big secret.

   Muffled footsteps overhead sent his heart into overdrive, and Michael Keaton's voice flitted through his head as Beetlejuice, one of his favorite movies growing up. He'd spent hours in his room watching it while Mother had her friends over, and he mouthed the words as Andie's boots came into view.

  _It's showtime._

 

 

   "Why don't you just go to Fairfax, man?"

   Negan looked up to see Shane watching him with an unhappy expression, and he shot him a dirty look in response, biting back the urge to cuss him out.

   "She chose to go without even fucking asking me to go along, so fu-" he stopped himself from saying something he'd regret, taking a deep breath. "Andie's too stubborn for her own good, and it's going to bite her in the ass, someday."

   "You're preachin' to the choir, man," Shane chuckled, running his hand through his non-existent fucking hair. "I can't tell ya how many times I asked her not to do something, and she'd just give me this look, like, 'you really think I'm askin' your permission?', and she'd do it anyway. Even if it blew up in her face, she'd never admit that she was wrong."

   He'd come to respect Shane, if not like him a little bit, but damn if it didn't piss him off when he'd try to present his little recollections of Andie as advice. He didn't want to think about the two of them together, living a life that he wasn't privy to, and it hit him like a tsunami right then. Andie had been experiencing the same goddamned thing with Lucille, and he couldn't have fathomed how much it had hurt her to see him reach for his dead wife's picture when she was standing right there in the middle of his apartment after just having been shot at.

   Negan knew he was self-centered and arrogant, but it never really resonated with him until he felt the bitter jealousy of being a bystander in her past with Shane. God, how did she even love him when he was so insensitive?

   "Yeah, well, there's a lot of that going around," Negan muttered, taking a sip of coffee. He glanced at his watch for the twentieth time in the last half-hour, itching to call and check on her, but the defiant part of him resisted, telling him that the onus was on her to reach out to him, so he attempted to read Dwight's file on Armand Scarpetti.

   Drugs, prostitution, stolen goods. Scarpetti had a finger in every illegal activity that went down in Atlanta, and hadn't so much as served a day in prison for over eight years, the last time from an assault case that was borne from a fight in a restaurant that mysteriously burned down when he was in the clink. Mixed in with the records was an aerial shot of Scarpetti's house. A compound was more like it, on the outskirts of the city, with no neighbors anywhere nearby, making in goddamned impossible to set up a surveillance operation.

   There was a fucking huge house, two guest houses, a pool that was almost as big as his apartment building, and woods surrounding the property on three sides outside of the walls that ran along the entire area. Not to mention the guards that were all over the property. How the fuck were they going to get in?

   His phone rang as he stared at the picture, and he glanced at it, his stomach doing flip-flops when he saw that it was Andie. Weirdly, she was FaceTiming him, or whatever the kids called it, and he stood up, striding from the room before pressing the green button. She never wanted to talk to him on the camera phone, even when they were apart from the night and he begged her for some face-to-face phone sex.

   As the call connected, he stopped in his tracks, looking at Andie's sleeping face, her mouth open just a bit and her jaw slack. The flip-flops turned into full-blown butterflies, and they were flittering their way up his chest towards his heart as she didn't say anything.

   "Andie? Honey, what's-"

   "Sugar can't talk right now," a pleasant voice said, out of sight, and the butterflies transformed into eagles, with talons that were ripping his chest into bloody shreds. "She's been put to sleep, and only a kiss from her Prince Charming can wake her."

   "If you touch one fucking hair on her head, I'll make sure that you never suffer enough," he roared, startling several people in the hallway, his hands starting to shake. "You sick, fucking low-life motherfucker."

   The sound of his yells brought Shane out of the conference room, and he stood behind Negan, letting out a gasp.

   "Careful," the man's voice warned him as a box cutter appeared next to Andie's neck, pressing against the skin enough to draw a drop of blood. "Are _you_ her Prince Charming or am I?"

   "Don't," he said, his voice breaking as the thought of her suffering at this fucker's hands made his legs go out from under him, and he hit the floor with a loud clack. "Don't touch her."

   "I won't," the voice chuckled, the blade disappearing as two fingers appeared, caressing her cheek lovingly. The eagles were pecking their way up his throat, bringing bile and terror with them, and he took a ragged breath. "As long as you follow my instructions, Negan."

   Hearing the man call him by his name gave him an uncomfortable jolt, temporarily stunning the claws and beaks, and Shane crouched down next to him, staring at the screen like it was a lifeline.

   "I'll be calling you from another line in one hour with directions to a house. If anyone comes with you, she dies. If you bring in your buddies, including Shane, she dies. If you do anything but what I tell you to do, she dies. If the cops put a tracker on you, she dies. Do we understand each other?"

   "Yes," he managed to whisper as the screen drew back, showing Andie laying on a bed with white sheets and her wrists handcuffed together. If he could reach through the phone to grab her, he would, and he let out a whimpering sound.

   "Good. Then I'll call you in an hour. Don't bother trying to put a trace on the call. I'll know."

   The screen went blank, and he let the phone fall from his hands, bouncing off of his thigh to the ground as Shane took off at a run. Chaos erupted around him, but Negan could only stare at the phone as the animals in his chest won the fight, and he vomited on the floor.

   He lost her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahh! As I mentioned above, there will be story shown from a lot of character's viewpoints, so we can see what's going on from all sides. And we'll find out how Andie got overpowered, along with Negan's journey to get her back. I hope you like it as much as I like writing it.


	31. Lie to Me, Sweetheart

   “Wake up, sugar.”

   Andie leaned into Negan’s palm as it rubbed her cheek gently, feeling both warm and cold at the same time. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she rolled to the side, trying to snuggle closer to him, only to find that her arms wouldn’t move more than a few inches. 

   Opening her eyes, she looked up in confusion at the handsome face that was just inches from hers, blinking sleepily. She knew him, but she couldn’t place his name and she blanked out for a second.

   “Cole?”

  He smiled indulgently at her, correcting her with a tsking sound.

   “David.”

    _David_. It came rushing back to her, and she flinched back away from him, trying to raise her arms to ward him off, but they were tied together, thick rope running from either side of the bed to keep her in one spot. He’d never been Mr. Dempsey’s grandson. Fuck, she was so stupid. She remembered walking down her steps to thank him for the plant, and he’d been sitting on her couch with his arms crossed, watching as she descended towards him. 

   “Hey,” she’d said, coming to stand in front of him with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry I missed the memorial.”

   “You didn’t miss anything,” he’d replied, getting to his feet and pulling out a gun and a pair of handcuffs. It had taken her all of two seconds to realize who he was, and she bolted for the steps to get to her own gun that she’d carelessly tossed onto the bed while she’d packed up her and Negan’s clothes. But David was taller and faster, and he’d tackled her at the foot of the steps, clocking her with the gun, making her see stars. 

   While she was stunned, he’d turned her onto her back, fixing the cuffs around her wrists, forcing her to her feet as she thrashed around. She only stopped when the muzzle of the gun was placed against her temple, and he jerked her restraints painfully, making her cry out.

   “Don’t make me hurt you, Andie,” he’d warned her, the metal making her shiver as she looked up into his eyes. They were flashing like a danger signal, and she told herself to calm down, to let him have the control until she could figure out how to get free. “I don’t _want_ to hurt you, sweetheart.”

   “Okay,” she managed to whisper after swallowing hard. “Okay, David.”

   He started slightly at the name, recovering quickly as he got behind her, using his hand on her shoulder to guide her towards the door. When they reached the closet, he took out one of her jackets, placing it over the handcuffs to camouflage them. 

   “We’re going to walk over to my house, and you’re going to behave, right? Because if you try to run, yell, or signal anyone that’s outside, I’ll kill them and then I’ll kill you.”

   “I won’t,” she promised, trying to keep her knees from knocking together. She was entering some sort of state that was beyond afraid, the primal need to survive kicking in, and she’d do whatever she had to do to ensure that she would. Andie just needed to think, to try to pay attention to whatever he said and did so that she could live through this. _Don’t think about Beth, or Rosita or any of the other girls. Just concentrate, stupid. You have something that they didn’t. You know more about this guy than they did, and you’re a cop for Christ’s sake. You can do this._

   “Okay,” he encouraged her, opening the front door as he stuck the gun against her side and took her arm firmly. “Nice and easy.”

   She didn’t miss the blood that was trickling out from under her bathroom door, and she didn’t overlook the fact that there were two guys riding their bikes down the street. Don’t panic and don’t call out. Just survive.

   David guided her through the neighbor’s lawn, directing her to the sidewalk, towards a large, silver SUV, pressing a key fob to unlock it the doors. Guiding her around to the driver’s side, he opened the door, hoisting her up into the seat and motioning for her to move over to the passenger’s side. Awkwardly, she crawled over, nearly smacking her head off of the window as she got herself upright, keeping her hands in her lap. 

   “Sorry,” he apologized as he shut the door, starting up the car. “I didn’t mean to make it hard for you, sweetheart, but I can’t trust you quite yet.”

   Every time he called her sweetheart, it made her want to vomit, but she pasted what she hoped was a thoughtful look on her face. “I understand.”

   David opened the console between them as he held the gun just below the window, retrieving a syringe filled with a clear liquid and she started to shake her head back and forth, cringing against the door. 

   “Please don’t. I’ll be good.”

   “You’re about a hundred forty pounds, right?” he asked as she continued to shy away from him, her eyes on the needle. “ _Right_?”

   Tearing her gaze away, all Andie could think of was Beth, knowing that she laid paralyzed as David assaulted and strangled her, and she felt her eyes start to burn with unshed tears. 

   “Please, David. I swear I’ll behave.”

   “Andie, darling,” he sighed, “I’m not trying to hurt you, but we have a long ride ahead of us, and you don’t need to know where we’re going. Just trust me, okay? If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so already. A hundred forty?”

   Nodding once, she shut her eyes as he put his hand around her neck, his thumb looking for the right spot, and she whimpered when she felt the needle penetrate her skin, the area burning as he injected her. 

   “There,” he rubbed the spot gently when she opened her eyes, her arms and legs getting spongey, and he leaned over her lap, pressing the button to lower her seat. “All better, love. Now you just lay back and relax, and we’ll be home soon.”

   Sparkly prickles danced around her vision as he buckled her seat belt, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, and if she didn’t know any better, she would swear that he felt genuine affection for her as he tilted his head to the side, watching over her as she slipped into unconsciousness.

   Now, he was laying next to her on a large bed, petting her hair like she was his pet, and she froze, fighting the urge to rail against the restraints. Glancing around the room, she couldn’t find anything that the recognized. The bed sat in the middle next to a wall that was covered with wood slats that extended to the other three. It was large, with a stone fireplace directly across from her and two windows that were boarded up, leaving only lamps to light the area. 

   She was still dressed in her jeans and shirt, but her boots and socks had been removed, though her legs weren’t tied down. Briefly, Andie thought about attempting to kick him, but it would be pointless. She couldn’t get free and it would only make him mad. Aside from the bed, there were two red chairs set near the fireplace and a small bedside table on either side that held two lamps. No pictures, and nothing to tell her where in the fuck she was.

   “How’s your head?” David asked, his fingers plucking along her scalp, touching a goose egg where he’d smacked her with the butt of his gun, and she winced, unable to stop it. 

   “I have a headache,” she muttered, squashing down the disgust at him touching her without her permission. She wanted to ask him where they were, what he was going to do to her, but she already knew the answer, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of terrorizing her. She was going to die, and she refused to beg for her life. Sickos like David got off on it, and she wasn’t going to let him get any joy from her. Ever.

   He rose from the bed, disappearing out of the door that sat on the right of the fireplace, returning with a plastic tumbler and two white pills. Sitting on his knees, he tilted her head up, placing the pills on her tongue and then letting her sip the water. It could’ve been cyanide for all she knew, but she suspected they were just regular old pain pills.

   Whatever he had planned for her, it wasn’t going to be quick.

   “Thank you, David,” Andie murmured, and his face lit up like she’d just declared her undying love for him.

   “You’re welcome,” he set the cup on the table, looming over her as she licked her lips, the dull ache in her head making her forget about the twinging pain in her wrists from being tied up, and she let her head drop back onto the pillow. 

   “You must be hungry,” he said all of a sudden, smiling brilliantly, and she shook her head. 

   “Actually, I really need to use the restroom. May I?”

   “Are you going to behave, sugar?”

    _Sugar_. He’d called her Negan’s pet name for her, and Andie’s entire body felt like it was on fire. How did he know that name? He could sense the change in her, cocking his head like a dog, and she felt short of breath. Oh God, what about Negan? 

   Her throat closed in pain, and she almost let out a sob, but she bit it back, breathing deeply through her nose, shutting her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at David, the murdering psycho who’d probably hurt the man she loved and tortured him for information.

   “Uh, my head is making me nauseous,” she lied, gagging lightly as she felt the mattress bounce up and down. “I might throw up.”

   “I’ll be right back.”

   When she opened her eyes, he was gone and the door was ajar, and she allowed herself one strangled cry before biting down on her lip to shut herself up, channeling the grief she was feeling into rage. If he’d done anything to Negan, she would take David with her when she died, a vow that she wouldn’t let herself break.

   The door swung open, and David produced a knife and the gun, pointing both at her as her body locked down in anticipation. 

   “Behave, Andie.”

   “I will, I promise.”

   Breathing through her mouth, she kept perfectly still as he cut the rope from around her right wrist, moving around the bed to do the same to the left side, and she sat up slowly, rubbing the sore area as he stood over her, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it, her skin crawling from direct contact, and he pressed the gun into her side as they walked slowly towards the door. She actually did feel like puking as she started to move, and when they got into the hallway, she could tell that it was still light out.

   There were two doors in the hall that led out into a living room, but all she could see was a faded grey couch and another fireplace. David ushered her into the bathroom on the left, and she rested her hands on the sink as she tried to get her bearings. The impression of the décor was that of a cabin, and there was wood stacked next to the living room fireplace. Fuck, she was probably in the middle of nowhere, and if he had the inclination, he could bury her out in the woods and no one would ever find her. She’d be some cautionary tale that parents told their girls about. An unsolved case.

   “I’ll let you freshen up,” David said, gesturing towards the toiletries that were placed near the faucet. He’d set out toothpaste, three toothbrushes, soap and a washcloth.

   Instead of shutting the door to give her privacy, he simply backed up towards the opposite wall, turning his head, and she unzipped her pants, sitting on the toilet. Humiliation was the least of her worries, and she washed her hands when she was done, brushing her teeth as he finally turned to stare at her. 

   “David?”

   “Yes, sweetheart?” 

   “Um, what happens now?” Andie swore she wasn’t going to ask, but she couldn’t help it, the not knowing worse than was she was conjuring up in her own head. She was sorry she asked, because her heart dropped to her feet when he answered.

   “Now, we wait for Negan, my darling girl.”

    _Oh, no. Please no_.  


 

   Negan hadn’t spoken in fifty-seven minutes, sitting in the conference room as men and women bustled around him, trying to figure out a way to catch the Heartbreaker without losing Andie in the process. He didn’t offer any ideas, didn’t argue or throw things, like everyone expected him to. He just sat there, staring at his phone as he waited for David’s call. He was in some space beyond hell, looking back almost fondly at the pain and anguish from watching Lucille waste away in a hospital bed. 

   At least there was rhyme and reason for that particular pain. Cancer was organic, a part of nature. Nothing about this situation was natural. He could feel guilty about comparing the two later. Right now, all he could do was picture Andie’s unconscious face in his mind, mentally flagellating himself for letting her go to motherfucking Fairfax on her own. If he would’ve been there…

   “Negan.”

   He refused to look up, to give Daryl any of his attention. He’d been sitting next to Negan ever since he arrived right after the video call. Rick was on his way, and all of Shane’s agents were trying to come up with a plan, but there wasn’t one, because he was going to drive to wherever this fucker wanted him to go and beg for Andie’s life. He’d offer himself in exchange. He’d cut his own heart out if it made the bastard happy. Just let her go.

   While he was on the road, Rick had called Glenn, begging him to do anything he could to trace Andie’s phone. It wasn’t much to bank on, but if she still had it turned on, they’d be able to ping it off of a tower or some such bullshit. Burner phones couldn’t be traced, and Negan knew that’s what David would call him from in three minutes. The guy had computer knowledge, money, and unlimited time to plan this shit. They were fucked. He was fucked, and he jumped out of his seat when the phone rang, the entire room going quiet in unison.

   Pressing the speaker button, Negan cleared his throat, ignoring the burn in it from throwing up like a bitch.

   “Yes?”

   “Hello, Negan,” David said, the voice echoing through the room. “Hello to everyone else in the room that’s probably listening.”

   “Where is she? Let me talk to her,” he demanded, his vision taking on a reddish hue. 

   “She can’t come to the phone right now,” David chuckled, and Negan could hear running water in the background. “She’s…indisposed.”

   “Did you hurt her?” Negan hated the way his voice sounded pathetic and broken, but if she was dead, he’d rather know now so that he could just go drive himself off of a cliff instead of going somewhere and being faced with her lifeless body. 

   “Of course not,” David was offended, and his voice got harsh. “She’s in the shower getting cleaned up and ready for our date. What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

   In another life, he’d be proud of his restraint, crowing over his refusal to tell this piece of shit what kind of guy he really was, but he bit his tongue, grinding his teeth together. 

   “What are your instructions?” he asked instead, jerking his shoulder when Shane tried to lay a comforting hand on him. His skin felt raw and blistered, and he wanted to be left the fuck alone, to deal with this himself.

   “I want you to take Andie’s car to 67282 Summer Lake Road,” David said slowly. “Park in front of the cabin and look directly into the camera before coming inside. I have the entire area under surveillance, and if I see anyone other than you, or any car other than hers, I blow the place sky high. Got it?”

   “Yes.”

   “Good. It should take you approximately 90 minutes to get there. If you haven’t arrived by five o’clock, I’ll be sending you a picture of Andie’s chest with the heart ripped out. No weapons.”

   The call disconnected, and he bolted from the room with Daryl right behind him and Blake calling after him, but he wasn’t going to be stopped. Never had he been more hell-bent on anything in his life, and he headed straight for Daryl’s car, the other man gunning the engine as they took off to his apartment where Andie’s car was sitting. 

   When they got there, he moved to open the door, but Daryl stopped him by clamping his hand around his bicep. 

   “Wait.”

   “I don’t have time,” Negan exploded, all of the rage and stress finally bubbling over, and he pounded his fist on the dashboard. “Fuck! Fucking cocksucking, shit for brains prick.”

   “Stop,” Daryl yelled, the first time he’d raised his voice at Negan in years. “Listen to me, goddamnit.”

   It was enough to shock him into silence, and Daryl pulled two things out of his pocket. One was a silver ring, and the other was a handcuff key.

   “This is an escape ring,” Daryl was breathing heavily as he handed it to Negan. Turning it to the side, he saw a jagged piece of metal running on the inside of the band, and he pushed it free. “The saw is hidden when you’re wearing it, and if the fucker ties you up, you can cut yourself free. Hide the key up your ass for all I know, but make sure he doesn’t find it. Get your fucking self free, or at least keep yourself an’ her alive ‘til I can come find ya.”

   “Don’t put her in danger,” Negan warned him, shoving the key in his front pocket and sliding the ring on his finger, the metal rubbing against his skin as he twisted it on his finger. “If he sees the cops, he’ll kill Andie-“ his voice faded as he let out a choked grunt, and Daryl slapped him hard across the face. 

   “I’d never put her head on the block,” Daryl snapped, wounded by the thought, and Negan’s eyes narrowed. “I ain’t just gonna stroll up to the door, ya prick. I got plans of my own.”

   “What fucking plans?”

   Daryl gave him a smile that quite honestly freaked him the fuck out, and he nodded his head. 

   “If Scarpetti wants him, he can help us find him.”

   Negan watched Daryl drive away before jogging into the apartment and grabbing Andie’s car keys, taking off like a bat out of hell. Once he was out of the city, he set his phone on the dash, letting the soothing female voice guide him to Summer Lake Road, which ended up being smack dab in the middle of Sweetwater Creek State Park. The winding road cut between the tall evergreens that populated the area, with only a few houses scattered here and there. 

   As he got to the end of the road, a little wood cabin came into view, but there were no other cars around. Negan’s tongue absently poked at the key that he’d shoved into his mouth, sitting above his front teeth in the crook of his lips. The metal was bitter, yet he kept touching it, the metallic tang reminding him to keep his goddamned mouth shut for once in his life, and he cut the engine, looking around carefully before stepping out. 

   The cabin was one level, with two windows on either side of the tiny porch, with just two steps leading up to the cracked wooden door. There were no signs of life, no head peeking out of the curtains, and he held up his arms to show that he had no weapons on him as he walked slowly towards the door, locating the camera that sat underneath a porch light. 

   He lifted his face, looking at it for about ten seconds before turning the knob, finding the door unlocked. An eerie calm came over him as he pushed the door in, bracing himself to find a gun in his face as he stepped inside, but the place was completely empty. Not even a chair, and he stood there in confusion, thinking that he’d gone to the wrong place. 

   Tacked up on the wall was a piece of paper, and he crossed the room, whipping it off the wall to find a note.

   “Good job following directions. Now go to where Cochran and Rivertown Roads intersect. You’ll see a private drive with a blue metal sign that says ‘Rivertown Resort’. At the end of the drive, Andie and I will be waiting for you. Tick tock.”

   There was a red heart drawn at the bottom of the paper with a jagged line going through it, and another camera was watching him from the corner of the room, making sure that he wasn’t doing anything stupid. Negan turned on his heel, balling the paper up in his fist as he stepped outside. After he shut the door, he looked up the porch camera, scanning the rest of the cabin for others, but he didn’t see any, so he dropped the paper just out of sight for Daryl to find.

   “Hang on a little longer, baby,” he told himself, praying that she could hear him. “I’m coming, I swear to fucking God.”


	32. Taste the Rainbow

  Armand Scarpetti’s office was built to intimidate, with a six-foot-wide desk in the center of the room. It was topped with a combination of black and white marble, a disgusting display of wealth, at least in Ace’s eyes. The heavy wooden piece probably cost more than he earned in a year, and he perched in the corner of the room as Scarpetti wrote on a thick sheet of beige paper, ignoring him as he had for the last twenty minutes, even though he’d requested Ace’s presence.

   It was a show of power. Stand there and do nothing until I see fit to deal with you. Ace knew that he was going to have to own up to the fact that he hadn’t killed the pig couple, and he was well aware that disappointing Scarpetti could be deadly.

   After blowing his chance to take them out, he’d fled the apartment building, narrowly missing getting busted, and he’d hidden out for over twenty-four hours until his cell phone rang, Scarpetti’s private number. ‘Be in my office by 10 a.m.’

   That short missive had sent a chill down his spine, and he spent the rest of the night sitting in a chair in his living room with a gun in his hand and a bottle of tequila in the other. Just because the Boss wanted to see him didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to get whacked, and Ace wasn’t taking any fucking chances.

   But morning came and no one showed up on his doorstep, so he knew that he had to go and face Scarpetti. Had to do whatever he could to make up for failing, especially since the cops were now in protective custody. Tommy had enough foresight to send him a message and let him know. Scarpetti’s mole in the police department wasn’t able to find out where they were, but they had nothing on his boss, so that was probably his only saving grace.

   He’d been searched when he arrived at the Grace, Scarpetti’s compound that had named after his mother, and led through the house to the office, where Ace tried not to fidget as Scarpetti’s Montblanc pen scratched against the pulpy paper.

   “Sit down,” he finally said without looking up, just pointing a thick finger towards one of the chairs. Another mindfuck was that Scarpetti’s seat was much higher off of the ground than the others, allowing him to literally look down on you, and Ace sat down in the one farthest from the door, just so he’d have the chance to see if someone was coming to kill him. “I’m not executing you, Ace,” he said, even though he hadn’t lifted his head. “If I wanted you dead, you would’ve been gone already.”

   Ace could feel his heart speed up, not feeling any more secure, but he managed to sit back and give the appearance that all was well.

   “Thank you, sir.”

   “I am disappointed, and I think you know that,” Scarpetti continued to write, neither speeding up or slowing down the pace of the pen. “When I ask for a job to be completed, I expect it to be done without any hiccups. This is twice in the past few months that you’ve failed, Ace. Two strikes, right?” he finally glanced up, his eyes a cold brown. “What happens at three?”

   “I’m out,” Ace replied, his mouth filling with saliva.

   “That’s right. You’re out.”

   He went back to writing whatever the fuck he was composing, and Ace rubbed his hands slowly against his pants, trying to discreetly clean the sweat from his palms.  _I need to fucking blow town._

   “The hit on the cops is off,” Scarpetti announced, finally setting the pen down and folding the paper over, inserting it into a matching envelope. “Since they’re being watched by the feds, I can’t take the chance that you won’t fuck up again, and as of right now, they’ve got no proof it was me. Instead, I want you to turn your attention to this Heartbreaker fuck. Get with Fat Joey at the chop shop on Lexington. He thinks that this David fucker’s the same guy that he’s been supplying cars for over the last year or so. Said he’s due to change up again any day.”

   “Yes, sir.”

   Ace rose up, and when he reached the door, he was called back, steeling himself as he stood expectantly at the edge of the desk, awaiting further instructions.

   “Have Joey send over something nice for Cara,” Scarpetti said, handing him the sealed envelope.

   When he finally made it to the safety of his car, Ace took a deep breath, tossing the paper on his seat, unable to keep from smirking. Leave it to fucking Cara to weasel her way into the boss’s good graces. If anyone was able to get out of this with a better station in life, it’d be her, and he couldn’t even fault her for it. He remembered the way she was splayed on the bed in that fucking motel room, with her arms and legs spread out like a doll. The sickly purple finger marks that started around her breasts and snaked up in a circle around her neck. The angry red inner flesh of her chest.

   He wasn’t a fucking monster. Ace felt bad for her, and he guessed that he even liked her a little bit, and as long as it didn’t affect his money, he didn’t care if she ended back on the stroll or not.

   Joey’s garage was about a half hour away, and Ace pulled in, parking in front of the open door, where three guys were standing in a little circle smoking. When he started for them, they scattered, suddenly finding something better to do, and he went into the office, kicking the door shut as Joey sat there with a sandwich in one hand and a huge hunk of lunchmeat sitting half-eaten in his mouth which was hanging wide open as he stared at Ace wide-eyed.

   “Jesus, Joey, fucking swallow that shit before I puke,” he scoffed, sitting on the edge of the desk, setting Scarpetti’s envelope next to a Coke can. The big man hurriedly finished his bite, setting the rest of his sandwich aside and picking up the paper with greasy hands. Ace waited patiently while he read it, and Joey stood up quickly, grabbing a key off of the corkboard behind him.

   “Jake,” he called, nearly blowing Ace’s eardrum out, tossing the key to an equally hefty older worker whose overalls were spattered with oil. “You and Jonesy take the silver Q5 over to Mr. Scarpetti’s house, and be back in an hour.”

   Jake inclined his head, vanishing as quickly as he’d shown up, and Joey went back to his food as Ace quizzed him about David. Apparently, he always paid in cash, requesting a different car every six weeks. They ranged from sleek sports cars to barely-running junkers. He was impressed, both at the inventiveness of the freak and his obviously deep pockets. Once they were brought back to Joey, they were stripped and the parts used in other thefts, pretty much ensuring that they’d never be discovered and traced back to him.

   Figures a sick degenerate would be sitting on a pile of money while guys like him had to work their asses off just to make a living. Ace went through the garage, interrogating every employee about David, and they all said the same thing. Good-looking blonde guy. Typical entitled asshole, but he always tipped them with crisp one hundreds.

   He was taking a piss, staring at a centerfold that was hung up over the toilet when his phone rang, and he tucked it between his shoulder and ear as he washed his hands.

   “Yes, sir?”

   “Get back here now,” Scarpetti ordered in a clipped voice. “I got a job for you.”

   “On my way.”

   “This is your chance to wipe out those strikes, Ace,” his steps faltered as he made his way to his car.

   “How so?”

   “I got me a very determined cop sitting in my office, and he says he can lead us to the Heartbreaker.”

 

   “In one mile, turn right.”

   The GPS on Negan’s phone spoke in a soothing voice, directing him to his final stop. The end of the road. The only destination that mattered, and the entire time he drove, the sun danced on the asphalt in front of him, a beacon to the only thing that mattered to him. He chased it as fast as he could, but that goddamned light stayed just out of reach, an orange haze that illuminated a certain death walk, and he was willing to lay his life on the line to make sure that Alexandra Saunders made it home to her father.

   Because he’d made that promise freely on a beach in Mexico, and he intended to keep it.

   As he reached the intersection, his phone rang again, but he declined the call from Rick Grimes, just like he’d ignored every other attempt to reach him by his boss, Michonne, Shane, and everyone else. This was his job, his responsibility, and he didn’t need their help. He was going to do something right for once in his miserable fucking life.

   Rivertown Road was in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Negan slowed to a crawl as he scanned the trees for any signs of life. A winding old lane, filled with potholes and questionable paving continued on for two more miles until he rounded a bend, seeing a fence ahead with a metal gate that ran across both lanes.

   Pulling to a stop just a few inches from the crisscrossing bars, he put Andie’s car in park, keeping his hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead as he waited, the eerie feeling of being watched making his hands throb with blood. It took about five minutes or so, but a figure appeared to his right, wearing a baseball cap down low over his eyes and a gun in his grip. Negan couldn’t see in the asshole’s eyes, but he saw a flash of white teeth, and he cautiously reached over to open the window.

   “Hello, Negan,” David called out, keeping his gun aimed at Negan’s head. “Thank you for being on time.”

   “Where is she?” He wasn’t in the mood for any more games, and David took a few steps forward, dropping the gun suddenly and firing into the dirt. The sound echoed off the trees, but if he thought that it was going to scare Negan, he was a fucking idiot. He didn’t even flinch, looking David up and down impatiently. He didn’t have time for this shit, he just needed to lay eyes on Andie. “Where is she, David?”

   David’s face came into view, and Negan drank in the details, trying to figure out who he was and how they knew each other. The other man had brown eyes and light brown hair, and he was about six feet tall. There was nothing remarkable in his face, other than the fact that he was good-looking. But Negan had never seen him before in his life. He wasn’t a collar and he wasn’t the husband of any of his previous hookups, not that he could remember. He was just a fucking guy.

   “First things first, take your gun out by the fingertips and hold it out of the window.”

   Reaching in with his right hand, Negan produced his Glock, following David’s instructions to the letter, using only the very tops of his fingers to hold the barrel, extending his arm all of the ways out as the psycho came within striking distance, brushing his own hand across Negan’s as they made the transfer.

   “Anything else on you?”

   “No. Where is she?”

   “Unlock the door,” David ordered, waving his gun towards the backseat, “and I’ll take you to her.”

   Once he was in the car, he pressed the muzzle into the side of Negan’s neck, directing him to turn around and go back to Cochran. As they drove, his eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, and each time he found David doing the same. While Negan’s eyes were scrutinizing, trying to find out all the information that he could, David’s were…wistful.

   Was that the right word? He didn’t know, but it was creepy as shit. He felt compelled to ask this asshole what he was walking into, but the words lodged in his throat because he knew what the Heartbreaker was capable of. He’d seen the aftermath.

   They followed the sun once more until they got so far into the forest that it no longer could break through the leaves, down another winding road, and Negan’s pulse picked up when a sandy brown cabin popped up out of nowhere, pressing down hard on the brakes as David’s gun jabbed into his throat.  
In unison, they got out of the car, and Negan immediately put his hands in the air, running his tongue over the key one more time. One last taste of bitterness as he studied the building. It had a wraparound porch and a clearly visible camera that was pointed directly out onto the dirt patch that he’d sloppily parked Andie’s car on. The back of the property sloped down sharply from what he could see to a valley that butted up against the mountains. On either side of the house were thick bushes and two small paths that led into the evergreens.

   “Walk, please.”

   David nudged him in the small of his back with the gun, and Negan started forward, noticing immediately the faint sound of music, probably to mask any sound of struggle, and he nearly took off running for the house, so desperate to make sure that Andie was all right. But years of experience taught him to let the perp think that they were in charge, to keep them calm and engaged, and as long as David didn’t take his ring, he’d have a chance, and all he needed was one good one, because he was going to tear this guy apart with his bare hands.

   There were three steps up to the porch, and Negan took them slowly, stopping at the front door. David reached around him, inserting a key into the lock and pushing the door open. It gave Negan his first good look inside, and he entered slowly, stopping just inside. The cabin was decently sized, with a large living room that led into the kitchen.

   The walls were paneled with wood, and two couches sat horizontal to a stone fireplace.

   Between them was a high-backed metal chair, and David motioned for him to have a seat.

   “I want to see Andie,” he planted himself in one spot, folding his arms together, and David struck out, clocking him on the jaw with the gun. It sent him down to one knee, the pain a bright, white light across his vision, but he was undeterred. The uncivilized part of him was screaming to tackle this motherfucker, but he merely looked up into David’s face, which was turning red. Reaching into his pocket, the younger man pulled out a remote, holding it just centimeters from Negan’s eye.

   “I’ll mutilate her. I’ll cut her left breast off and fry it up, you fuck. Don’t make me hurt her, because I don’t want to. But if you don’t start to come to the fucking realization that I’m the one in charge here, her blood will be on your hands. Right now, our little sugar is sitting with a nail gun strapped to her forehead,” David said, spittle forming in the creases of his mouth. “All I have to do is press this little button,” he tapped a black circle on the top of the remote, “and she’ll be slaughtered like cattle.”

   Negan got to his feet, his brain propelling him to the chair even as his heart told him to kill, to bathe in David’s blood like summer rain. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs as he forced his own hands behind the back of the chair, and David stepped out of his sight for a few seconds, returning with several feet of rope.

   His wrists were tied together before being anchored to the back of the chair, and then David moved down to his ankles, securing them to the metal legs, and when he was done, he looked up with a serene smile.

   “I was just kidding, you know,” he let his gaze drift down Negan’s face to his lips. “She’s perfectly fine. I would never put a nail gun to her head. It’s too pretty to mess up.”

   “Please let me see her,” Negan murmured, looking down at the floor as he used his pinky to move the escape ring in a slow circle, feeling for the saw that sat on the inside. “Please.”

   David was quiet, but with a short nod, he set his palms on Negan’s knees, using him as leverage to get up, tucking the gun into his pants as he tossed the remote onto the couch. “That’s actually for the television,” he chuckled, winking as he turned his back and walked down a narrow hallway to a closed door.

As soon as he was out of sight, Negan tested the ropes to see how much wiggle room he had, using his left hand to try and grasp the ring. It made his arms ache, but with a little more slack, he’d be able to slide it off without moving too much.

   Faster than he expected, the door reopened, and Negan let out a sound that was some sort of cross between a moan and a sigh of relief. David was holding Andie by the arm, and she moved slowly down the hall towards him, her face hidden in shadow as the house seemed to get darker with every passing minute.

   He’d dressed her in a long purple, flowy gown, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. Any relief he felt withered like fruit on a vine when she got close enough for him to see that she was completely out of it. Her eyes were half open, and she looked around in wonder, her fingers twitching like they were dancing some sort of macabre dance.

   “Andie-“

   It was all he could choke out, but it was enough to get her attention, and she gave him a dreamy smile as David led her over.

   “Negan,” she sighed, the word sounding swollen as it came out of her mouth. She reached out with those twitching fingers, running them clumsily against his cheek. “You’re so beautiful. You’re the most beautiful dream.”

   David let her go, obviously confident that she was no threat, and he went around the house, turning on lights and closing drapes as she kept stroking his cheek, beginning to sway back and forth to the music that was still playing.

   “Andie, baby, can you look at me? Are you all right?”

   Her eyes were unfocused as she let her head bob up and down, and all too soon, David, the ‘soon to be dead’ Heartbreaker put his arm around his girl, pulling her to his side.

   “What the _fuck_ did you do to her?” he said, never taking his eyes off of Andie.

   “She’s fine. She’s just on E.”

   “You-, You fucking gave her Ecstasy?”

   “Don’t worry,” David hugged her closer as Andie seemed to snuggle against him, humming under her breath. “I made sure it was safe before I gave it to her.”

   “He loves us both,” Andie giggled, reaching out blindly as her eyes shut completely, her hand bumping into Negan’s nose. “Will you forgive him? Can we be happy?”

   “I’ll try,” David said in a soft voice, kissing the top of her head, and Negan nearly swallowed his own tongue to keep from unleashing a torrent of words that he’d never be able to get back. It was physically hurting him to see Andie this vulnerable and to know that she had no control over herself. Beyond that, the visual of another man touching what was his was making him violently angry and sick, and he shifted the ring around his finger over and over, the little scrapes from the saw keeping him from doing something that would get them both killed.

   “What the fuck is she talking about?” he finally asked, watching as David’s hand moved further up her torso until it was just under her breast, hating the way Andie’s lips parted sensuously. He knew enough about Molly to guess that she was really fucking horny, and David gave him a knowing look. “What the fuck do I need forgiveness for?”

   “You still don’t know?”

   “Know what?”

   The song that was playing died out, leaving a pregnant silence, and Andie’s smile grew as she let her hand drop from his cheek, putting her arm around David’s midsection.

   “You killed his mother,” she muttered, burying her face in David's chest. “It’s why you have to die.”

 


	33. Victim of Love

   Andie drifted away from David as a new song began to play, some slow jam about love, leaving Negan staring at the part of his chest that she’d been hugging, scrambling on what to do. Her declaration that he’d killed David’s mother came out of left field because she knew that Negan had never harmed a woman in his life, at least not physically.

   Her bare feet made scuffing sounds on the wood floor as she disappeared to the right, humming tunelessly as David continued to stand in front of him, waiting for a reaction.

   When he didn’t get one, their captor let out a sigh, stepping forward to do something he should’ve probably done from the beginning, to pat Negan down.

   With practiced hands, he ran them along Negan’s torso, lingering over his chest before slipping them onto his waist, squatting down between his legs with a smile, one that unnerved him above everything else. It was reminiscent of the look he was giving Negan in the car, a sort of sad happiness at the situation, and David wrapped his hands around Negan’s thighs, caressing them as he shifted uncomfortably. At least he wasn’t touching Andie, which was all the good he could find in the situation.

   “I’ve never killed a woman in my life,” he said, watching as David stiffened, his fingers going from reverent to painful as he cupped them around Negan’s dick, squeezing it roughly.

   “Wrong,” David informed him, getting into his face. “You absolutely fucking killed her. I was there. I saw it.”

   “He’s blue,” Andie murmured from behind him, her voice getting closer as Negan grunted in discomfort. “He’s blue and you’re red,” she pressed her chest into the back of his head, leaning heavily against him, her arms snaking around his neck as David took a deep breath. “Together with me, you’ll be purple.”

   “You’re right, sugar,” David murmured, letting go of his dick, and continuing to search him for hidden weapons, working the cuffs of his jeans out from under the ropes.

   Negan jerked as he ran his nails along his shins, sliding his hands up the back of his calves, massaging them gently.

   The entire time, Negan used Andie’s proximity behind him to work the ring off of his finger, clumsily cupping it in his fist until David stood up, extending his hand towards her. “Can you have a seat for me? Negan and I need to talk for a while.”

   Andie came around his right side, her arm trailing around his neck as she patted his cheek, and she swayed towards the sofa, kneeling on the cushions, her hips making slow circles as she ground herself against it. It was frightening to watch, and the fact that David seemed to be enjoying it made it even worse. He was trapped in hell, a literal hell as David took the legs of the chair and turned him so he was facing the other sofa.

   “So, I’m sure you have questions, and so do I,” David said, picking up the laptop that Negan had failed to notice and opening it up. It whirred to life, and he tapped quickly on the keyboard, giving a perfunctory glance to Andie to was still humming. “You’ve been a very bad boy, Negan. I know you all have christened me the Heartbreaker, but I’m really just a poor imitation of you.”

   “Fuck you,” Negan hissed, spitting on the floor to hide his movements, using his thumb and forefinger to pry the tiny saw from its spot and slide the ring back on, the serrated blade fitting perfectly in the curve between his palm and fingers. “I don’t cut the hearts out of women just because I can’t get it up without hurting them, you impotent fuck.”

   David ignored him, studying the screen with a frown, clicking a few buttons before turning the computer around. He’d drawn up a picture, and he rested the laptop on his knees, watching Negan’s face for recognition. “Do you recognize this woman?”

   Negan’s eyes shifted, and he glanced at the image, one of a woman with brown hair and eyes, his jaw clenching when he made the connection.

   Yes, he knew her.

 

 

   Ace made it back to Scarpetti’s mansion at four forty-eight in the afternoon, this time waved through the guard’s gate without being patted down. There was a motorcycle parked in front of the entrance, and he pulled up behind it, cutting the engine.

   Tommy was waiting for him at the doors, leading him with quick steps back to the office, where five other lieutenants were gathered, all surrounding a guy with stringy brown hair and suspicious eyes. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and a vest with angel’s wings, dirty jeans, and boots, and Ace seriously began to doubt that this prick was a cop.

   But Scarpetti seemed pleased with the change in circumstances, and he waved Ace over to the second empty chair. The cop’s leg was bobbing up and down rapidly, his rough hands gripping the arm of Scarpetti’s expensive chair.

   “This is Detective Daryl Dixon,” Scarpetti introduced him. “He’s been trying to catch the Heartbreaker for three years.”

   Daryl glared around the room, clearly uncomfortable with being surrounded by made guys, but he made no sudden moves as Scarpetti continued.

   “Earlier this morning, this David asshole kidnapped the female detective, and her lover has been dispatched to join them to save her life. I swear, this is like a fucking soap opera,” Scarpetti laughed, rocking back in his seat. “Seems this serial killer has a past beef with the guy, and he’s intending on killing them both. But Detective Dixon here wants our assistance in finding them all. Isn’t that right?”

   “Yes,” Daryl said in a gritty voice.

   “And why would we help the cops?” Ace interjected, earning a glare from the boss, but he had to fucking ask. This was almost too ridiculous. But it was Daryl who provided the answer.

   “Because I ain’t interested in arrestin’ him. I’m gonna kill him.”

   “Bullshit.” Ace didn’t believe that for a second until he actually locked eyes with this guy and saw nothing but hate. He knew some vengeful people, but this fuckin’ guy left them all in the dust. So much so that he wondered how someone this vindictive and sour became a cop.

   “I need people that aren’t bound by the law to help me. We’re running outta time. You want this asshole dead, too, or ya wouldn’t have sent your guys after Negan and Andie.”

   Scarpetti crooked his finger at Gus, who immediately stepped forward, and murmured into his ear. With a nod, Gus walked out of the office, and the big boss got to his feet.

   “Ace, take Tommy and Neo with you and Daryl. Find this fucking guy and make sure he’s neutralized. If you try anything,” he warned Daryl in a soft voice. “I’ll make sure you suffer like you can’t even imagine.”

   It didn’t seem to phase the cop, who stalked from the room with his shoulders squared, and Ace heaved himself up with a shrug since this was just another job to him. Daryl was pacing around his car, and he jumped in the passenger’s seat as soon as the door was unlocked. That meant that Tommy and Neo were riding in the back, squishing their fat asses into the rear, blocking the view.

   “Which car did they take?” Ace asked as he opened the tracking app on his phone. “The Charger or the sedan?”

   “You fuckin' lojacked them?”

   “Of course, fuckwad. Which one?”

   “The sedan,” Daryl glared out the window, his hands balling into fists as Ace brought up the right tracker. It was moving through the Sweetwater Creek State Park, and he turned the phone towards the cop, showing him.

   “That’s not the place the Heartbreaker told him to go,” Daryl’s eyes narrowed, trying to work out what was wrong. “Lemme see.”

   He took the phone as Ace started the car, slowly making his way down the manicured driveway of the Grace, nodding at Cara as they passed her and Gus on their way to the main house from the guest one. However, she was looking past him towards the passenger’s seat, and her mouth dropped open in shock.

 

 

     
   Deanna Monroe. Gorgeous and fucking clingy as fuck. Negan had met her one night at a fundraiser, fifteen years ago. He’d occasionally done some security work on the side, a way to earn a little extra money to put towards his retirement, and a possible fund for a very expensive watch.

   It had been during one of the few decent stretches of time that he’d been faithful to Lucille, for over three months in fact, when he’d picked up an extra gig working the room for a bunch of rich assholes, their annual ‘Beautify Atlanta’ gala at the Hight Museum of Art. He and a few other guys spent the night walking the crowd since there were several pieces of art and jewelry up for auction.

   Personally, Negan was bored, spending the night listening to out of touch men and women talk about things that no average person gave a fuck about. Their vacation homes and how hard it was to find good help. He just counted down the minutes until it he could leave when a woman wearing a ruby red silk dress caught his eye. She’d been standing in the corner with a glass of champagne, watching him unabashedly, running her fingers up and down the stem of her glass, licking her lips.

   A few coy smiles, and he knew that he wasn’t going to leave alone. Still, he played the part of an aloof employee, circling the crowd and edging closer to her until he was finally just on the other side of a table of decadent desserts, standing with his arms behind his back and his chest jutting out. She never really interacted with anyone, she just kept to herself in that same corner, her hair casually tossed over her shoulder as she stole glances at him until she finally sashayed over to the table between them, setting her empty champagne flute on the table, extending her hand.

   “Deanna Monroe,” she introduced herself in a smoky voice. Negan was immediately reminded of those femme fatales from old detective flicks, the ones where some mysterious broad would saunter into an investigator’s office, looking for a knight in shining armor to protect her from the big bads of the world, and the private dicks were too stupid to know that the dames were damaged goods.

   “Negan,” he responded, taking note of how her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. From there, it was a blur as they ended up in a limo, all hands and lips and tongues entwined, the entire time his mind screaming that he should just fucking go home to his wife. But the heady perfume that she wore and her whispered words telling him that he was so hot, so perfect kept him in the car, taking them to a downtown apartment building.

   Deanna was relentless, sucking him off before they even got to the penthouse, on her knees in the elevator, her red lipstick smeared all over his dick when the mechanical voice announced their arrival. His libido took over from there, and they’d fucked twice in the living room. Fuck, he’d never even gotten his pants off.

   He’d thought that would be it, just a little slumming for her. You know, the rich girl that wanted to take a walk on the wild side. But the next day, she’d tracked him down at work, waiting outside in the parking lot when he came back from patrol.

   Negan should’ve known then that there was something off about Deanna, but his ego told him to just shut the fuck up and enjoy it. And he did, for about a week, until it became glaringly apparent that she was way more into him than he was to her. It wasn’t just an affair in her eyes. It was a relationship, and after one late night tryst, she’d collapsed on top of him, whispering that she loved him.

   It made his eyes snap open, breaking him from the post-coital haze that had engulfed him, and he saw her staring lovingly at him, a sickeningly sweet smile that was too close to Lucille’s, and he’d gently eased her off of him, pulling on his pants.

   “I gotta go,” he said, reaching for his shirt and jacket as she scrambled out of the bed, following him into the living room.

   “When will I see you again?”

   “Look, doll,” he’d told her, taking her hands when she tried to cup his face. “This has been a lot of fun, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

   “But I _love_ you,” she stared up at him in confusion, like he’d led her on, and her eyes filled with tears.

   “You don’t know me. I mean, Jesus, this was just a fling. Where did you think this was going to go? We’ve known each other for like, six fucking days.”

   “Negan, please,” Deanna struggled to free herself from his grip, and he let her go, stepping back into the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He was fucking weirded out by the way she was looking at him, and as soon as the elevator started to descend, he let out a shaky breath.

   All they’d done was fuck a few times. They’d barely spoken more than a few words to each other, and she was acting like they’d been destined to be together forever. That there was more there than just two people screwing around. It wasn’t like he’d stuck around after they’d fucked, and he barely knew anything about her.

   Over the next few weeks, she’d tried to call him at all hours of the day and she would come to his precinct and wait for him to get off of work until he finally unloaded on her in a rage, backing her into the door of her limo as her driver got out, shooting around the front of it to restrain him.

   “Don’t fucking come here again or I’ll have you arrested for stalking, you crazy bitch,” he’d roared at her. “It’s fucking _over_ , do you understand? Move the fuck on.”

   Before the driver could reach him, he’d turned around and walked away, glancing back when he got to his car to see that she was still in the same spot, slumped against the door. Him being the asshole that he was, he drove away, vowing that he’d never sleep with another woman other than Lucille again.

   Of course, that lasted no longer than any of his other promises to himself, and when he never saw her again, he assumed that she’d finally gotten it through her thick head that they were over.

   He remembered reading in the paper that she’d died, maybe a few months after their affair, but it never really sparked anything inside him other than the relief that she was finally out of his life for good. He’d regretted the way he’d handled it, sure, but really it was just a relief not to have to think about her anymore. She was just some girl, after all. One of many.

   Yet, here was her son, staring him in the face as it all came back to him. A son that was obviously around when they’d been together, but he’d never known.

   “Do you recognize this woman?”

   Negan knew that everything hinged on his answer, and he nodded slowly, licking his lips to wet them.

   “Deanna Monroe.”

   David’s face took on a dreamy quality, and he turned the computer back around, smiling at the screen. “She loved you, Negan, and you killed her. You killed Mother.”

   “I didn’t-“

   The computer clattered to the floor as David shot to his feet, punching him in the face, making his head rock to the side, and he nearly lost the handcuff key by accident.

   “You killed her, you fuck! You led her on and broke her heart,” each word was spat out with a corresponding punch to some part of his body, and he doubled over in pain as Andie started to cry behind him. “You used her, you murdered her, and you made me what I am. You took her away from me. She was happy before you came along. You put the knife in her hand and drove it straight into her heart.”

   “He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry,” Andie chanted, whimpering as Negan coughed, his stomach throbbing from the blows.

   The computer began to ring like a telephone, and he was promptly forgotten as David hurriedly picked it up, opening it and setting it on the couch, kneeling in front of it. Deanna’s picture was minimized and he pressed the touchpad, bringing up a series of screens, each one connected to one of the cameras. They must’ve had motion sensors or something, because one of the was glowing red, and David clicked on it, enlarging it looking for movement.

   It took him a minute to get his bearings, but it was the one that was pointed at Andie’s car, and David got up and went to the living room window, taking the gun with him as Negan used his thumb to roll the saw towards his fingers, testing it against the rope. There was a slight scratching sound as he began to move his hand back and forth, and he stopped when David turned around, apparently finding nothing out of order.

   He seemed to have regained control of his emotions, because he bypassed him without a glance, dragging Andie over to the other couch and sitting her down next to the computer. She had tear tracks running down her face, and David wiped them away as Andie’s eyes closed, leaning into his touch.

   “Do you need some more medicine, sugar?” he asked in a soft voice, his hand moving along as she shook her head, reaching out to pull him towards her.

   “Not yet,” she said, “I just want you to be happy. I’m happy. I’m filled with so much love.”

   “I know you are,” David said knowingly, giving Negan a smirk. “I know you want me. Don’t you?”

   “Yes,” she breathed, trembling when his hands cupped her face.

   “And what about Negan?”

   Andie’s eyes struggled to open as Negan’s heart flipped in his chest. She was drugged out of her mind, yet he was afraid that she’d condemn him to die in her altered state, a shameful fear that made him sick. “What should we do about him?”

   “I think…” she looked between the two of them as her brain moved slowly, trying to put her jumbled thoughts into words. “I think…you should let it all out, David. Tell him the pain that he caused you. I want you to be as happy as I am right now. Then maybe you can make him happy, too.”

   “Okay, sugar. You sit tight, okay?”

   Andie nodded dreamily as David got up, walking towards the kitchen. He wasn’t out of sight, but his back was turned, and as soon as he was past Negan, Andie looked at him, completely sober and with it.

    _‘Get yourself free,’_ she mouthed, making his jaw drop.

   She was fucking faking it this whole time and David didn’t know, and she knew what Negan had been trying to do.

   Maybe they would live after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Deanna in this fic doesn't resemble the Deanna from the show in looks or personality. (No offense to Tovah at all.) But the one thing they do have in common is that the both birthed horrible sons. :)


	34. A Crescendo in Pill Form

   In addition to being a murdering psycho and a sadist, David was a fucking talker. He kept a running commentary about everything as Andie showered to prepare for their ‘date’. It didn’t matter that he’d stripped the shower curtain from its rings, leaving her naked and vulnerable as he sat on the toilet. He just kept flapping his trap, mostly about Negan, especially after his phone call to give him directions to the cabin.

   Andie knew that his obsession ran deep, but she’d had no idea how much he’d fixated on her love, to the point that she began to feel like she was incidental to everything that was going on. To be sure, she was the one that he’d plucked out after killing Beth. He’d been kind enough to tell her as such, but when he’d laid eyes on Negan one night when they were sitting in a diner not far from the Grove, it’d changed everything.

   Negan was the one responsible for the trauma in his life. Negan was the one who’d made him a killer. He’d have his precious Mother if it wasn’t for Negan. On and on, over and over as she tried to cover her breasts, he waxed poetic about his perfect Mother, and how Negan had used and abused her, causing her to stab herself in the chest with a butcher’s knife.

   When she shut off the water, David handed her a towel, letting her dry off before leading her back into the bedroom, producing a long, purple dress for her to wear. No underwear, though. He winked at her, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a makeup box and a hairdryer, like he was presenting her with expensive gifts, and she murmured a quiet thanks.

   Any hope she had of being rescued before Negan arrived died with the succinct statement that he’d tossed her phone before they arrived. Without some sort of contact from David, Rick and Shane would have no way of finding her, and she accepted that fact. Sadly, but grudgingly.

   David never waited for a response from her, he just kept incriminating himself, secure in the knowledge that she’d never be able to tell another living soul, because she wasn’t going to make it out of here alive, and as she transitioned from victim to aggressor, she decided to play up to his ego.

   “I’m so sorry for what Negan’s done to you,” she said quietly, catching his eye in the mirror as she curled her hair. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you all of these years, missing your mother. I lost mine when I was very young, but I don’t think we had a close relationship like yours.”

   David’s eyes narrowed, and she waited for him to do something, ready to burn his fucking face off if necessary before he put a bullet in her brain, but his face cleared, and he gave her a smile.

   “I knew you’d understand,” he said, and her heart stuttered in relief as she set down the hot iron, running her fingers through her hair before turning around, meeting his gaze as he looked her up and down. “You get it, don’t you, Andie? How Negan can confuse you and make you think you’re the most important person in the world?”

   “I do,” she agreed, leaning against the counter.

   “Imagine if you were as delicate as Mother, and he led you on, made you believe that he loved you, and then tossed you aside like you were garbage. Wouldn’t it feel like a death sentence?”

   “Yes, it would. Negan did hurt me, and it was a pain like I’d never known,” she admitted, giving him a kernel of truth. “It took a lot for me to forgive him, David, but I did.”

   He held out his hand, and Andie let him guide her into the living room, sitting down on one of the couches with a metal chair between them, fighting the urge to look around, to get a lay of the surroundings for when she needed to fight. Instead, she gave him all of her attention as he sat across from her, opening his laptop to do whatever the fuck psychos did on computers.

   “All of the nights I spent listening to you two in your bedroom, or watched you on the camera in your living room, I wanted to be there, Andie. I wanted to love you, and I guess a part of me wanted to love him, too. I get it,” he said, looking up to see her nodding understandingly because her years on the force had given her the ability to suppress rage, to hide the judgment and surprise that he’d invaded her life much more than she’d thought.

   Tomorrow, if she survived, she’d deal with the fact that this fucker had been privy to her and Negan’s most private moments. That he’d heard and seen things that were sacred to her. No, today, she was pliable.

   Until she killed him.

   “I get how easy it is to love him,” David continued, running his hands over the gun as the other lazily typed on the keyboard. “He’s tall and handsome. He’s smart and funny, and he knows how to fuck. I’ve seen it, right?”

   “Right,” the word was acid in her mouth, burning it’s way out of her as she sat back, setting her hands in her lap so that he could see them, see that she was compliant.

   “But there’s something rotten inside him, sugar. Something that makes him hurt people, and I can’t let him hurt you.”

   “Thank you, David,” she said after a moment, swallowing down the bile in her throat. “Thank you for caring about me.”

   “You’re welcome,” he told her, making a few more strokes across the keyboard. When he was done, he set the laptop on the side table, rising and moving past her with the gun in his hand. Andie didn’t move a muscle, bracing for anything, but he merely walked into the kitchen, opening and closing a few cupboards. The sound of the sink being turned on filled the open room, and just as quickly it was shut off.

   When David came back, he sat down in the same spot, patting his lap as he placed a glass of water and a blue pill by the gun, keeping his hand on it for security. Andie hesitated for only a second, rising and coming to a stop in front of him as he motioned for her to sit on his lap. She turned around but he cleared his throat, and she looked at him questioningly.

   “Other way, Andie,” he said quietly. “Sit on my lap the same way you sit on Negan’s.”

    _Fuck no_ she didn’t want to, and it was like her legs locked in place, so it took her a second to comply, resting her right knee next to his thigh as she put her hands on the cushion on either side of his head. When her groin made contact with his, she could feel how hard he was, and she wanted to vomit right then and there, all over his face.

   “This is nice, don’t you think?” he sighed, moving the gun slightly as he gazed up at her. “All the times I watched you do this to Negan, I always wondered what it would feel like. It’s even better than I imagined.”

   Andie’s lips stretched into a thin smile as she looked into his eyes, trying to find any trace of a rational human being. And there was happiness there, but not what she would classify as genuine, because damaged people like David couldn’t really feel true emotions. They were manufactured, or poorly made copies of what they saw in other people.

   They sought to satisfy only the basest human urges, because they were too broken for anything else.

   David’s hand slid along her back, cupping her left ass cheek, and she jerked slightly, covering it up with a nervous laugh. “Sorry,” she muttered, trying to loosen her stiff posture. I’m a little ticklish.”

   “I know,” he said in a teasing tone. “I’ve heard you when you two were in bed.”

   “Right.”

   “Negan will be here soon,” he told her, picking up the little blue pill with his thumb and forefinger, holding it up for her to see. As soon as she saw the little butterfly imprint on it, she knew what it was, and her head began to shake back and forth automatically, not caring if David got angry.

   “Please, I don’t want to do drugs,” she pleaded, trying to placate him by moving her hands to the back of his neck. “I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

   “You have, sugar, but I need to leave to meet Negan, and I can’t trust you fully. How do I know that you won’t try to escape while I’m gone?”

   “You can tie me up,” she told him, her voice trembling. “I’ll do anything, just don’t make me take that. I don’t feel safe.”

   “Listen,” he told her, holding it out until she let him drop it in her palm. “I know the guy I got it from very well. He’s never sold me anything bad before. It’s just a little E. Nothing to be afraid of. It’ll keep you happy while I’m gone, and when I get back, you’ll see Negan. I mean, you want to see him _alive_ , don’t you?”

   The threat was implicit, and she nodded vigorously as he smiled. When she tossed it into her mouth, taking a large drink of the water, she was resigned to what was coming. What David didn’t know was that it wasn’t her first time taking this drug. While she wasn’t sure how strong it was, she was well aware of the effects of Ecstasy, thanks to a misspent few months in college. Thank the fucking Lord George Saunders had never found out.

   “Have…have you ever done this drug before?” she asked, smacking her lips together as she handed him the glass back, fidgeting on his lap.

   “No, but from what the dealer told me, you’re going to be the happiest girl in the world in about twenty minutes.”

   “David, I’m afraid. I’m scared-“

   “I’m not going to hurt you, Andie,” he said, holding the gun up as she leaned away from him. “Not unless you give me a reason to. I want to make sure that you comply, though, so this little drug will help you stay calm and agreeable when Negan gets here.”

   “But you’re going to hurt him?”

   “I haven’t decided yet,” David gave her a nudge, and she swung her leg off of him, watching him closely as he got back to his feet, pacing around the room. “It depends on how remorseful he is for what he did to Mother. I know it’s hard to understand, but I hate him and I don’t. He made me into the man I am today, but if he hadn’t broken her heart and killed her…”

   He stopped in his tracks, picking up the laptop when it dinged, and Andie felt a jolt of terror as David studied the screen, the gun inadvertently aimed directly at her forehead. She’d been with him for hours, and it was wearing on her, the constant feeling of trying to read his moods and intentions. Added into it were the images of every woman he’d slaughtered, all because he couldn’t find fulfillment, and she wasn’t going to be any different. No matter what he claimed he saw in her, at some point, he was going to realize that she wasn’t the answer to his emptiness, and neither was Negan.

   “It’s time,” he told her, snapping the laptop closed and motioning for her to rise. “I need you on the bed for now, sugar.”

   Andie followed his instructions, walking back to the bedroom as she stole a brief look around. The windows in the open kitchen looked out on trees, so there was nothing to learn there, and the bathroom was inside with no way out. There was another room across from the bathroom, but that door was shut, and she went immediately to the bed, laying on her back as David holstered the gun. For a brief moment, she pondered disarming him, but if she failed, she’d die.

   Fuck, even if she did manage to get the weapon, she had no clue where she was and the sun was starting to set. So, she spread her arms as he tied first the right and then the left, leaving her spread-eagled once he secured her legs.

   “I won’t be long,” he kissed her forehead as she nodded, wide-eyed, and he pointed to a camera that he’d set up on the dresser. “So I can keep an eye on you,” he told her. "Just so you know, there’s no way out, and there won’t be a car here in case you do manage to get yourself free.”

   “I told you I’d behave, David, and I meant it. I keep my word.”

   “And that’s why I love you,” he smiled, reaching out and running his index finger along her jaw, making her shudder. Luckily for her, he thought that it was a pleasurable reaction and his face brightened. “I knew you’d come around, Andie. There’s so much I want to do with you.”

   As he turned around, he pulled a set of keys from his back pocket, shaking them as he left the room, shutting the door behind him. Less than five minutes later, she heard the front door close and the sound of an engine firing up, prompting her head to flop back onto the pillow as her eyes filled with tears.

   How did she end up here?

   And Negan. Oh God, he had no idea what he was walking into, but he was doing it just the same. For her. If she’d ever doubted his true feelings for her, she didn’t, now. It would’ve been easy for him to tell David no. Any reasonable person might have, given the fact that such a disturbed individual had been fixating on him for so long, but Negan was coming, and she felt overwhelmed with love and fear for him.

   Time passed by, and she waited for the pill to kick in, knowing what to expect, but nothing happened other than a minor buzz, and she started to think it was some sort of joke, some type of trick. But David seemed to really believe that he’d given her Ecstasy. Whatever guy he’d gotten it from had sold him shit, and she was going to use it to her advantage, at least until he called her out on it.

   Knowing that a camera was on her and that he could be watching her at all times, she started to let her body relax and a smile flit across her features as she remembered the last time she’d done E. Raves were big while she was in college, and the few times she’d taken a hit, she was filled with energy and euphoria, a confidence in everything that only good drugs could give you. Depending on the situation, you were either filled with a zest for life and dance moves that could take you to a higher plane, or an intellectual overload, able to solve any problem that presented itself, and tonight she was going to fake both.

   If David wanted pretend love and empathy, she was going to give it to him, right up until she drove his fucking knife through his chest, just like his beloved Mother. The only drawback was that Negan was going to think she was out of her mind, and possibly feel betrayed when she started in on all of her hippy-dippy ‘love is the answer’ bullshit.

   Since the red light was on, she started to move in the bed, not to free herself but to make David think that the pill was kicking in, adding a few nonsensical phrases in case he could hear her, belting out a few songs for good measure. It was hard not to revert to her real self, but everything was on the line, and she didn’t want him to figure out that she was stone fucking sober, and when she heard a car pull up about an hour later, her heart started to beat double-time, the knowledge that Negan was mere feet from her nearly killing her.

   It was still several minutes later until she heard footsteps coming down the hall, and she maintained the dreamy expression that had taken over her face, smiling happily when the door opened and David appeared in front of her.

   “You’re back,” she breathed, her eyes flitting shut as he stood over her, studying her intently. “I’m so…purple,” she giggled, wiggling her fingers towards him like she wanted to touch him, and he seemed to buy it, quickly untying her hand. As soon as he did, she stroked his face softly, giving the impression that she’d been wanting to do it. “Such pain,” she murmured. “I hate to see so much pain.”

   “I won’t be in pain much longer, sugar,” he said, going to her feet and freeing them. She shook her legs, watching them with a rapt expression, and once her other arm was untied, David helped her to her feet. Throwing caution to the wind, she threw her arms around his neck, humming an off-key tune, moving from side to side like they were dancing, and the fucker ate it up, joining her. “Come,” he told her, guiding her forward. “It’s time.”

   Twitching her fingers, Andie let him take her down the hall, making the rest of her limbs loose, controlling her breathing from years of practice, though it gave her a painful jolt to see the man she loved tied to a metal chair in the middle of the living room. When she finally locked eyes with him, she nearly dropped the charade. He was angry, sad, and ready to give into the darkness that always hovered just below the surface, and she’d never love him more than she did right then, because he was here. She didn’t have to do this alone anymore.

   “You’re so beautiful,” she breathed, cupping his cheek with uncoordinated movements, making him believe that she was out of it.

   From there, she played the part of the damsel in distress, forcing herself to touch and hug David every once in a while as he let her roam around the room, dancing to the music that was playing. It gave her a chance to really get her bearings, cataloging the fact that there was a door in the kitchen and a butcher’s block on the counter with several knives. The fireplace was bare of pictures and décor, but David had inadvertently left a poker leaning against the brick. Good to know.

   She played her part well, even when her eye caught sight of a silver ring on Negan’s finger, and she leaned against his back, covering up his hands, sure it was some sort of sign to her. She was wrong, of course, when she saw him remove it as his back was to her, extracting a tiny saw that he cupped in his hand, and her heart nearly burst with pride. But David began to rain blows on him as he lost his mind over his fucking Mother, blaming Negan for her death, which she still didn’t quite understand.

   In all of the nights that she and Negan had been together, sharing their deepest secrets and regrets, all of which David had fucking overheard, he’d never once mentioned the name Deanna Monroe. So, she wasn’t quite sure where this woman fit in his past love life, other than the fact that he had slept with her.

   When the camera dinged again, David forgot about his vengeance against Negan, checking to see if they’d been discovered, and Negan began to saw through the ropes, making a dent in the one side. It pained her to see him physically assaulted, and her tears were real, but when David brought her over, she let him wipe away the traces, leaning into his hand as she told him to unburden his soul so that they could all be ‘happy’.

   David went to the kitchen, and she took her chance, looking Negan in the eye, much to his shock.

   ‘Get yourself free’, she mouthed the words, careful to make no sound, and his mouth dropped open. ‘I love you’.

   As soon as the words were whispered in the air, the darkness settled in his face, and she knew that he was going to do anything he could to get free, just so he could wrap his hands around David’s neck and break him into a million pieces. Was he going to be able to come back from this?

   David’s back was still to her, and she slumped back on the couch, letting her head loll to the side as he turned around, watching her from the counter. In response, she smiled softly, running her hands up and down her neck, an invitation to join her so that Negan could finish sawing through at least one of his restraints.

   She was sorry she did, however, when he brought back a huge serrated knife and a syringe along with the ever-present gun. Andie feigned confusion instead of fear, lifting her eyes to his face with her lips slightly parted.

   “It’s only as a precaution, sugar,” he assured her, setting everything on the side table, sitting down between her and the weapons. The entire time, Negan remained stone-faced, only the slightest movement in his arms as he flexed his muscles. “I still have a few more questions for Negan.”

   “Okay,” she said slowly, reaching out to run her fingers along his arm, resting her head against his shoulder. By doing this, it made David wrap his arm around her, allowing her to snuggle into his neck, and she let out a contented sigh as Negan’s face dropped. Even though he knew she was faking everything, it had to hurt him to see her supposedly being taken advantage of, and she winked at him with her half hidden eye as she tilted her head to run her nose along David’s neck.

   She could feel his heart speed up, and it was exactly what she wanted, because when she got the chance, she was going to rip his goddamned throat open. He'd bleed out much faster if his heart was pumping at a higher pace.

   All she needed was an opportunity, and she got it a few minutes later when Daryl goddamned Dixon came plowing through the back door along with two of Scarpetti’s men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! Dixon to the rescue!


	35. Where Dixon Guns Collide

   David studied Negan’s face as Andie curled her arm and leg over his torso, enjoying the way the other man’s face tried to remain impassive, but he failed. It made David feel powerful in a way that no single woman could, the fact that Negan was tied to a chair, forced to watch the girl he loved do things to someone else, things that he didn’t have to goad out of her. 

   Negan was a striking man, maybe the most handsome specimen he’d ever seen, and it was as alluring to him as the soft lips that suckled at his throat. He understood why Mother was so enamored of the jet-black hair that had just a few grays dotting the temples of a face that made countless women weak in the knees. Brown eyes that were surrounded by lashes so long and thick that they reached his eyebrows. Stubble that was salt and pepper, accentuating a strong jaw and lips the perfect shade of pink.

   Add in the fact that Andie was as ripe as a Georgia peach, with her long legs and breasts that pressed against his side, and David was the happiest man in the world. Her eyes were the shade of the ocean just before a storm, a blue-grey that changed colors with every mood, and her skin smelled like someplace far away, an exotic land filled with decadent spices. He nearly came undone when her tongue grazed his Adam’s apple, so he gently pushed her back, watching those eyes as they stared up at him, hazy with lust. 

   He didn’t want to rush this. It was his only chance to make Negan see, to understand what his true purpose was. David could’ve had Andie any time he wanted, he knew that implicitly. But to have Negan witness him give her the most satisfying sexual experience of her life, well, that was what he really wanted. No, it was what he _needed_.

   David kissed her cheek, easing her back against the couch as he picked up the gun and the knife, holding one in each hand. He could hear Andie panting lightly, the material of her dress scratching against itself as she shifted her legs, and he held up a finger, urging her to have patience. She nodded once, and David turned his attention to Negan, enjoying the slow rise of heat along his skin, flushing red from his chest up to his neck. 

   Holding the gun, he used the tips of his fingers to grasp Negan’s shirt, slicing it from the collar to the hem, letting it fall open to reveal a toned chest that was covered in hair. There were a few scars dotting the tanned skin, and he studied them, curious as to how he got them. Grazing his knuckles over them, he puffed out like a peacock when Negan’s muscles rippled under his touch.

   “Did Mother lay her head here?” he asked, tweaking his right nipple. “Or was it here?” David pointed to the spot just above his heart. The depraved part of him was starting to wake up, to emerge from the slumber that it dwelled in for part of the time, and he touched the tip of the knife to the right side of Negan’s chest. “Well?”

   “I don’t fucking know,” Negan snapped, looking him in the eye. “It was fifteen fucking years ago, and we knew each other for a week.”

   “Wrong,” he dug the blade in, sweeping it diagonally across the smooth flesh, smiling when a thin stream of blood welled up, and he bent over, licking the salty fluid, letting it sit on his tongue. “You don’t forget a woman like her. She’s the kind of woman that haunts your dreams, just like Andie,” he turned to see her watching with glassy eyes, her mouth parted as she absently stroked her own chest. “Everything you did to Mother, I’m going to do to her, and you’re going to watch.”

   “You’re going to hurt me?” she asked in a small voice, and David gave her a reassuring glance. 

   “I’m going to _love_ you,” he corrected her, gesturing to her with the gun. “I’m going to make you feel things that you’ve only dreamed of. Whatever you think you have with Negan, it’ll pale against the way I’m going to care for you, sugar.”

   Her face relaxed, and she tilted to the side, resting her head on the arm of the sofa as she reached out, squeezing his elbow. Positive that she was reassured, he turned back around, debating on how to proceed. Should he drug Negan first and run the risk of him slipping into unconsciousness? Or maybe he should get Andie another pill first to make sure that she didn’t sober up halfway through. The last thing he needed was to see her crying and begging. She was different than the others. He didn’t want to see her tears, only pleasure, and he wanted Negan to know before he drew his final breath that Andie’s last moments on Earth were happy because of him. He may have taken Mother, but he wasn’t going to have Alexandra Saunders, and he’d have to live with that until David decided that he’d suffered enough. 

   Negan had three little moles on his chest, and they looked like two eyes and a nose, so he sliced a little smile into his skin, making it a happy face. Switching the knife into the same hand that held the gun, David dipped his middle finger into the blood, smearing it in swirly patterns, coating the chest hair into a sticky clump, and he leaned over to whisper into Negan’s ear. 

   “Are you ready for this?”

   Suddenly, his knees gave out, and he slammed his head off of Negan’s shoulder, unable to figure out what happened when a sharp sting bloomed on his neck as he hit the ground. Belatedly, his brain told him something bad was happening, and he rolled onto his back, looking up into blue-gray eyes that were no longer cloudy and drugged. They were wilder than any summer storm, and he went into a rage. 

   She _lied_ to him. She _tricked_ him, and he was going to paint the walls with her blood. The knife went skittering across the wood floor as he brought his gun up, intending to blow Andie’s head off, but she dug her nails into his wrist, shaking with effort, and when he pulled the trigger the bullet hit her shoulder, knocking her back as Negan let out a roar of pain, like he was the one that had been shot. 

   It was enough for David to get his other arm up, and he hit her square in the chest, sending her flying back into the couch. He got to a sitting position, yanking the needle out of his neck before aiming the gun at her face, but out of nowhere a black boot connected with his hand, and the gun went flying through the air, hitting the fireplace. 

   For a split second, he saw stars, and then his arms were crushed between meaty hands as his head spun around to see what was happening. 

   “Let me go,” he growled, looking into the faces of two of the biggest men he’d ever seen in his life. They were wearing dress shirts and trousers, and both of them were positively giddy as they hauled him to his feet. Who the fuck were these guys?

   While he was starting to get dizzy, he was vaguely aware that Negan’s partner was crouched behind him, cutting the other man free as Andie crawled towards the fireplace, grimacing as blood ran down her arm.

   “Time’s up, you limp-dicked fuck,” the black-haired guy told him as he struggled to free himself, getting weaker by the second. 

   “Wait,” Andie yelled, getting to her feet as Negan sprung free like a tiger that had been released from a cage. He wobbled back and forth between David and Andie as if he wasn’t sure who to go to first. “Don’t touch him.”

   “Are you fucking crazy?” Negan wheezed, reaching for the gun, but she held it out of his reach. “I’m going to fucking castrate this motherfucker.”

   “No,” she shook her head. “No, we’re going to do this my way.” She was breathing heavily as her blood began to drip onto the floor, and David tried in vain to get free, to find some way of finishing what he’d waited fifteen years for. “Hold him still,” she told the guys as she slowly dragged herself forward. 

   David didn’t know where to look. At the men keeping him on his feet, at Daryl who was holding his knife, or at Negan who was hovering behind Andie with black eyes and a grin that made his insides turn to ice. This wasn’t the way this was supposed to go, he thought, his vision starting to prickle with black spots. This wasn't his destiny, and he felt his head dip forward until cold metal was pressed just under his chin, lifting it back up. 

   “Do you know who these men are?” Andie asked, glancing to either side of him as he refused to respond. _Fuck her_. “These men work for Armand Scarpetti. Do you know who that is?”

   He did know who the Italian asshole was, but he had no clue why they were here and he spit in her face, smiling when the frothy liquid landed on her cheek. Negan reached around her, punching him in the jaw, and Andie pushed him back, wiping it off casually. 

   “It’s okay,” she said, briefly touching the center of Negan’s chest. “I’m okay.”

   He backed off just a step, and she returned her attention to David, cocking her head to the side as the pressure around his biceps increased, keeping him awake. “I want you to know that if I wanted to, I could let them take you right now and you’d suffer more than what you put those girls through,” she said in a rough voice, kicking him in the groin. "Especially Cara, who worked for Scarpetti."

   The throbbing pain made him start to dry heave, but Andie just squatted down on the floor, landing roughly on her ass as she stared up at him. “Keep him right there,” she instructed Scarpetti’s men. 

   “Andie, what are ya doin’?” Daryl came forward so that he was right next to Negan. 

   “You were never here,” she said in a dead tone, aiming the gun at David’s chest. “I managed to overpower this sick fuck, and he shot me. Then we struggled with the gun, and I killed him as he stood over me.”

   “You can’t do that,” David hissed, willing his legs to move, but they were dead weight, and it was only the two beefy men that were keeping him upright. The words were hard to force out, but he kept his eyes on her, refusing to believe that she’d really pull the trigger. “You’re a cop. You have to arrest me.”

   “No, I don’t,” she said coldly, looking him in the eye. “I made a promise to someone else, and I’m keeping it. Join your psycho mother in Hell, you prick.”

   The last thing that David Smith saw was a flash of light and an angelic smile as the bullet pierced his heart, and then he was falling forward towards Andie before slipping into blackness forever.  


 

   “Let him go.”

   Andie stared up into David’s lifeless face, his eyes looking down on her as his chest got redder with every second, and she let the gun fall from her hand as Scarpetti’s men slowly lowered David’s body on top of her. She wanted his blood on her, proof that he was coming for her, coming to kill her, and after a few seconds, Negan helped to roll his dead weight off of her, helping her to a sitting position. 

   When she looked into his eyes, she didn’t see Negan. She saw a stranger filled with so much pain and anger that she flinched away from him towards Daryl, who was wiping his prints off of the knife. 

   The taller of Scarpetti’s men pulled out a phone, and he sent a text before tucking it back into his jacket pocket, completely unbothered by what just transpired. 

   “You guys should go,” Andie told them with a nod of thanks. “Let your boss know he’s dead. Negan and I will call the cops.”

   “What are you gonna tell them?” the taller guy asked, edging closer to her.

   “Exactly what I told him,” she kicked at David’s corpse, finally feeling the effects of her wound, and she looked down at the injury, shaking her head. “He’s fucking dead and that’s all that matters.”

   “Andie-“

   “Daryl, _go_ ,” she urged softly, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

   It was directed at the three men, and after looking at each other, Scarpetti’s men headed back through the kitchen, exiting through the door into the night. Daryl lingered a few seconds longer, finally loping away and shutting the back door behind him. 

   Leaving Negan to stand guard over David’s body, Andie went into the kitchen, plucking a towel from the door of the stove and wiping the indoor and outdoor knobs, locking it tight before wrapping the red material around her arm, feeling slightly woozy. She was numb, both in body and spirit, and she just wanted to get free of this cabin, to take a deep breath and let it sink in that it was finally over. The Heartbreaker was dead.

   “Negan?”

   He didn’t respond as she walked back towards him, his hands clenched into fists as he stood over David, the blood beginning to spread from under his back along the floor, reaching Negan’s boots. With a deep breath, Andie bent down, patting the dead man’s pockets, attempting to wrench the cell phone free. 

   Negan finally woke from whatever stupor he was in, and he snatched the phone from her hand, turning it on. His back was to her as he dialed a number, and she slipped away to the front door, bypassing David’s laptop as she stepped onto the dark porch, half listening to Negan as he spoke to Phillip Blake, telling him their location and that the Heartbreaker had been killed in self-defense. 

   The forest was alive with sound, just after dark, with the cicadas singing in unison, and Andie sat on the bottom step, holding the towel to her arm as the lights from Daryl’s car twinkled in the distance, turning and disappearing from sight. 

   She knew she should feel guilty about committing murder, but she didn’t. Maybe because she didn’t consider what she did murder. David was beyond…everything. Hope, the laws of man. He didn’t deserve to live, and if she wanted to get technical, it was self-defense. He’d kidnapped her and attempted to drug her. He was going to rape her and kill her and Negan. She did what she had to do.

   So why was George Saunders’ face clouding her mind, looking disappointed and horrified?

   Andie sat in the dark until the police arrived, bringing half of the Atlanta force with them. Rick rode with Blake, and as soon as he saw her, he rushed forward, kneeling in front of her looking ashen. 

   “Are you okay?”

   “I will be,” she murmured, letting him help her to her feet and ushering her back inside where she was deposited on the couch as the long process of securing the scene and collecting evidence began. All the while, Negan kept his distance from her as she told the investigators in exhaustive detail what happened after David ambushed her. The only time he ever glanced at her was when she informed Rick that David had hacked into her security camera and bugged her home, though he quickly turned away. 

   Once they got what they needed, they took her to the ambulance, setting her on the gurney as they checked the bullet wound. Negan climbed in just as they were shutting the doors to drive her to the hospital, and he stared out the window as they drove away.

   The last image she had of David was of him being wheeled out in a body bag, and she reached for Negan’s hand, her eyes blurring when he pulled away from her, refusing to comfort her. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! He's dead! Boo! The aftermath!


	36. Kick Me While I'm Down

   Cara hated this fucking room. She hated the expensive décor, she hated the man sitting behind the desk that probably cost more than she’d ever make for him in her lifetime, and she absolutely despised the fact that Daryl had stepped foot inside this place, making himself known to Armand Scarpetti and leaving with his hired muscle, all to chase after a ghost.

   When she’d caught sight of him riding alongside Ace, her mouth had dropped open before she could stop it, hurriedly composing herself as she was brought into his home from the guesthouse. Why the fuck had he come? She was at a loss to figure out what he was thinking after everything she’d told him about Scarpetti.

   As she was placed in a small den and left alone, Cara fought the urge to pick up the landline phone and call his cell, first to make sure he was okay and then to cuss him out for showing up at the home of the most prolific mobster of the modern era. Daryl could be dead now for all she knew, and a part of her didn’t want to walk out of here alive.

   The man with the blue eyes and a smile that mostly came out when she was with him was now trapped in the same web as her, and she never wanted to see the light of day if he was gone.

   She was staring out of the window into the back patio when an older man came strolling in, accompanied by Jericho, her most recent guard, and he was carrying one of those old-fashioned black doctor’s bags, setting it down on the side bar, giving her a careful smile.

   “Hello, I’m Dr. Tollen,” he introduced himself, reaching out to shake her hand. “Mr. Scarpetti asked me to check you over and change your bandages.”

   He had a soft voice, with hands to match, and he dismissed Jericho with a nod of his head, the door closing firmly behind him as Cara sat down on the gold couch, unbuttoning her shirt. She had no clue what his credentials were, he could be a dentist for all she knew, but it’s not like she hadn’t bared her body for less, and if he could do something about the goddamned itching, she just might give this guy a blow job.

   Dr. Tollen took out a pair of surgical scissors, cutting through the bandages, and Cara looked down at the ugly slices, one of which was oozing with a reddish-brown discharge.

   “Okay, let’s get this cleaned up,” he told her, wiping down the area as she shut her eyes, the stinging antiseptic making her nose run. “You might have an infection, so I’m going to give you some antibiotics, and we’re going to apply a salve to speed the healing.”

   The doctor walked her through everything that he was doing, and after he fastened a new dressing, he sanitized his hands before handing her a bottle of pills.

   “Take this twice a day, preferably with food,” he said, striding to the door as she thanked him. “Take care of yourself, young lady.”

   If only she could. But she was trapped in this complex, a gilded cage if ever there was one, and her thoughts once again turned to Daryl. Something bad had to have happened if he showed up here, and she wondered if the David had killed another woman. Anyone that ended up in his hands was doomed, and she said a muted prayer that they didn’t suffer.

 

 

   Andie sat at the edge of the hospital bed, waiting to be released, and she held her prescriptions in her hand, no hard thoughts forming in her head. After hours of statements, going over her abduction and murder of David Smith, now known to them as Spencer Monroe, she just wanted to crawl into bed with Negan and sleep for at least twenty-four hours.

   The bullet had been extracted from her arm, sent to ballistics to back up her version of events that David, Spencer, whatever had shot her as they fought for control of the gun. The surgeon corroborated the fact that she’d been hit at close range, and he assured her that she would heal in several weeks, though her arm was wrapped and a sling had been placed over it.

   It wasn’t the pain from her arm that was bothering her right now, though. It was the fact that as soon as the ambulance had arrived at the hospital, Negan had gone to get checked out as well, and she hadn’t seen him since. Her room had been filled with cops, none of which were her colleagues or Negan’s. They were feds, officially placed in charge of wrapping up the case, and they’d worn her down with their endless questions.

   She was well aware of the fact that she had to give the information while it was still fresh in her mind. Andie also knew that there would be more interviews in the days and weeks to come, but she was tired. Tired in her body and exhausted in her heart. The images of David weren’t haunting her, the blackness in Negan’s eyes was. The way he’d shunned her in the ambulance was etched there, because she was afraid he wouldn’t recover from this, that he wouldn’t come back to her.

   Rick walked in with a nurse and a wheelchair, informing her that she was officially released from the hospital, and he walked alongside her as she was wheeled to the pharmacy to pick up the smattering of pills she’d been prescribed, which thankfully included a sedative.

   What she hadn’t expected was to see a throng of reporters outside the entrance to the hospital, and Rick took off for his car as the nurse backed her inside, away from microphones and cameras, hiding her face with one hand. Fucking vultures, all of them.

   While Andie had been insulated from the chaos, word had spread throughout the country about the serial killer known as the Heartbreaker, and the cops that had been kidnapped and survived. Her name was known far and wide, and it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t talked to her dad. God, he had to be beside himself right now, and when Rick pulled up, four uniformed officers came in to escort her out, keeping the reporters at bay.

  _“What can you tell us about your ordeal?”_

_“How are you feeling?”_

_"_ _Can we get a statement?"_

   Questions were shouted at her as Rick helped her into the car, speeding off away from the growing crowd. After being hollered at and the bright lights of the cameras, it was deathly silent in Rick’s car, the two of them staring straight ahead.

   “Where is he, Rick?” she finally asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Why isn’t he here with me?”

   “I don’t know,” Rick sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “He gave his statements and then had a car come to pick him up. The only thing he said was that he’d call you later. He’s…I don’t know what to say, Andie. I haven’t known the guy long, but I’ve never seen him so…disconnected.”

   She had no reply to that, so she shut her eyes, concentrating on her breaths and the pills in her hands, intent on disappearing into nothingness for a while when a face flashed through her mind, and she gasped out loud.

   “I need you to drive me somewhere.”

   “Andie-“

   “Rick, please,” she felt her voice giving out. “There’s someone I need to see.”

   “Who?”

   “Maggie Greene.”

 

 

     
   Cara must have fallen asleep, because she rolled onto her side, suddenly feeling like she was hurtling through space, and she jerked awake, a ripping pain tearing through her chest as a strong pair of hands steadied her.

   “You’re okay,” a baritone voice assured her, causing her to blink her eyes. It was daylight, and she thought that she’d maybe passed out for a few minutes, but when her eyes landed on Scarpetti’s watch, she saw that it was after nine. “You’ve been asleep for a while. I had the doc give you something so that you could rest.”

   See, it just freaked her out that he was could be so nice, because it always seemed to be followed by something terrible. A smile before a knife in the back, and she sat up with effort, allowing him to help her to her feet.

   “Is everything all right?” she asked, staring up into his brown eyes that were alight with happiness.

   “Come with me,” he told her, putting his arm around her shoulders and guiding her out of the of the den that she’d spent the night in and into his office, where Daryl was sitting along with Ace, staring straight forward. “We have some news for you.”

   Cara barely heard a word that he’d said, too lost in happiness that Daryl was alive in front of her and completely unharmed. Wherever he’d been, he was in no apparent danger, she assumed, and she took the seat that Ace vacated, her spine burning as he left her alone with Scarpetti and Daryl.

   “The Heartbreaker is dead,” Scarpetti informed her, ignoring Daryl for the time being. “Daryl and my guys were able to track his movements, and they assisted in neutralizing him before anyone else could get hurt.”

   “Anyone else?”

   “The fucker kidnapped Andie, and sent for Negan,” Daryl muttered as Scarpetti’s face remained impassive.

   Cara sucked in a shocked breath, not able to help it, and she gripped her knees for support.

   “Are they okay?”

   “The female detective was shot, and the male was cut, but they’ll survive.”

   She quickly recovered, shrugging nonchalantly as the boss continued to scrutinize her. “That’s good. I’m just glad the sick waste of breath is dead.”

   “I’m actually here to talk about your future, Cara,” Scarpetti leaned back in his seat, picking up a letter opener and running it through his fingers. “Detective Dixon would like to buy you.”

   “ _Buy_ me? For what?”

   Daryl refused to look at her, sitting stiffly in his chair as he stared over Scarpetti’s head to the picture that sat behind him. It was some sort of abstract piece with swirly gold and crimson paint, and it reminded her of the mess on her chest for some reason.

   “His reasoning is that you won’t be of any use to me, not since you’re so disfigured since the attack, and that means less ‘income’.”

   Scarpetti said it matter-of-factly, like she was a plowhorse that had come up lame, and she bristled internally. She knew that’s all she was in his eyes, but for Daryl to make such a comparison, it hurt, no matter what he was trying to accomplish.

   “I’m inclined to agree,” Scarpetti turned the letter opener around so that it was pointed at her. “But I’ll leave it up to you. Detective Dixon has offered me thirty thousand dollars to ‘buy you out’, as he sees it, and if you’re not opposed, I’ll let you walk out of here.”

   Was this a fucking trap? If she said yes, was Scarpetti going to kill Daryl and put her back to work anyway? Her mind was racing as she thought about what she should say, and Scarpetti stood up, coming around the desk and sitting on it, shocking her to her core.

   “This is the best deal you’re ever going to get, Cara,” he said softly, giving her a smile. “I’d suggest you take it.”

   “So, if I agree to let this asshole _buy_ me, I no longer work for you?”

   Daryl glared at the wall being referred to as an asshole, but she was both pissed and elated at the possibility of freeing herself, even if it meant being foisted onto Daryl, who probably didn't want it. This was just the kind of thing he'd do, because he had a good heart.

   “Yes.”

   “Fine,” she muttered, palming her chest where the skin was warm and tingly. “Thank you, sir.”

   “Take care of yourself, Cara,” he sighed, snapping his fingers. The doors opened and Ace walked in carrying a suitcase and a set of keys. “You’re free to go, but I don’t want to wait long for my money. You have twenty-four hours.”

   Daryl nodded shortly, rising to his feet and stalking out of the room, taking the suitcase as he passed by Ace, who handed her the keys.

   “What are these for?”

   “A parting gift,” Scarpetti said, waving dismissively at her, bending his head over his desk as he wrote something out.

   The keychain had an Audi symbol on it, and she shook her head in wonder, not understanding this man at all. Maybe he did have a heart, after all.

   “Thank you, Mr. Scarpetti.” She said it softly, and she meant every word, knowing that he was well within his rights to refuse all of this. He didn’t respond, but a slight smile formed on his lips, and she turned to leave, unsure of what to do next.

   By the time she walked outside to where a luxury SUV was waiting for her, the suitcase was in the trunk and Daryl was long gone.

 

   Andie sipped at the water that Rick bought for her on the way to the Greene farm, itching to take her pain pill, but she didn’t want to do that before talking to Maggie. It was probably rude to not call before coming, but she didn’t want to answer any questions until they were face to face.

   Since it was already all over the news, she had to assume that Maggie and Hershel were aware that the Heartbreaker was dead, and the fact that Andie had been involved. Hopefully, they could now come to terms with Beth’s death, and at least take solace that no one else would ever go through what the young girl had to endure.

   Her phone was sitting in her lap as she waited for a call from Negan, but it had been over twelve hours since they’d seen each other and there was no sign that she was going get to talk to him anytime soon.

   “Just give him some time,” Rick advised her as they approached a faded mailbox with the name Greene painted on it in white. Turning right, he started down the gravel drive that led to their white farmhouse, and Andie shook her head. “He’s not the only one that’s been through some shit. We should be dealing with this together.”

   “I agree, but the guy closes himself off, and you’ll have to let him work his way back to you. Shane’s with him right now.”

   “Why? Why is _Shane_ with him and not me?” Her temper was rising, and she almost sent him a text to fuck off, but Rick snatched the temporary phone that she’d been given out of her lap, tucking it into his shirt pocket.

   “Andie, I don’t claim to understand the man, but don’t do something that you’ll regret.”

   As they pulled up to the house, the front door opened and Hershel Greene stepped out, followed by Maggie. They looked apprehensive until they recognized her through the window, and Maggie shot towards the car, opening the door to help her out.

   “Oh, thank the Lord you’re all right,” she said, trembling as she looked her up and down, bursting into tears. “I’m so sorry.”

   Hershel made his way towards them, shaking Rick’s hand before placing a soft touch to her head, remaining silent.

   “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Andie murmured, letting the younger woman help her up the porch steps and into the house. “I’m just relieved it’s over.”

   The inside of the Greene home was quaint, with older, worn furniture and bright white walls. The dining room table was filled with food and flowers, and Andie sat down, rubbing her arm as Maggie went into the adjacent kitchen, returning with a glass of water. Rick took the spot next to her, accepting a cup of coffee, and the Greene’s sat on the opposite side, Maggie’s hands fluttering around a teacup.

   “Did you-“ she hesitated, unsure of how to ask. “So, he’s dead?”

   “He is,” Rick told her, squeezing Andie’s hand when Maggie burst into tears, sobbing as Hershel tried to comfort her. “He took Andie and Negan hostage, but they were able to overpower him.”

   “I shot him,” Andie said bluntly, feeling only marginally bad when Hershel winced. “He wasn’t immortal, and he wasn’t the boogeyman. He was just a sick creep who blamed everyone else but himself for whatever was wrong with him. But he’ll burn in Hell for what he’s done, and I’m so sorry that you had to go through what you did. I can-“ she choked on her words as the emotions of the past twenty-four hours finally caught up with her. “Nothing can ever bring Beth back,” she tried again, “but I hope that you’re able to heal from this.”

   “Thank you,” Hershel told her, giving Rick a solemn look. “I think my Bethy’s soul is at peace. I’m only hoping that the other women who’ve lost their lives are as well.”

   The two men chatted quietly about the aftermath as Andie and Maggie stared at each other, two women bound together by tragedy. One who lost a sister, and the other who lost her sense of privacy and security.

   “So, what happens now?” Hershel asked as Andie blinked, breaking the hold that Maggie’s green eyes had on her.

   “Now, the investigations into Spencer’s past will continue as we try to piece together what led up to this. He’d changed his name to David Smith, but he was born Spencer Monroe, and we’re going to dig around to see who he was in contact with, how he did what he did. I’m afraid I can’t go into much more than that, but when I can share the information, I will.”

   “We should go,” Andie murmured a few minutes later, rubbing her cheek. “I need to figure out where I’m going to stay tonight.”

   “What do you mean?”

   Maggie’s head cocked to the side in confusion as Andie shook her head ruefully.

   “I’m not going to be staying at my place for a while, if ever. David killed…he shot an agent in my townhouse, so that makes it a crime scene, not to mention the fact that he bugged my room and my living room.”

   Maggie went pale as Hershel stood up, coming around to face her.

   “We’d be honored if you stayed here.”

   “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,” Andie protested, looking quickly at Rick. “I didn’t mean to imply, I just can’t go home.”

   “You should stay,” Maggie said with finality, joining Hershel in front of her. “No one will bother you here, and it’ll give you time to recover. Dad may be a vet, but he can keep an eye on your injuries, and we’d love to have you. Really.”

   She knew she should say no, but the idea of hiding out for a little while had its appeal, especially since she didn’t know where things stood with Negan. Her home was no doubt crawling with reporters, and she definitely didn’t want to go to Negan’s apartment, not with everything that had gone on there. She deserved a fucking break, and her eyes filled with tears as she whispered out an ‘okay’.

   “Come on,” Maggie helped her up, looping her arm around Andie’s waist. “There’s a guest room with your name on it.”

   “I’ll bring you your things tomorrow,” Rick handed her the cell phone, walking out to the car as Andie trudged up the steps with Maggie, her body getting heavier with every step.

   Once she was left alone in the little bedroom, she pressed the home button on the phone, her heart pattering when she saw that she had an unread message. Propping her feet up, she opened it up, the pattering turning into a heavy sensation as she read it, because he'd finally done it this time. He'd broken her heart so badly that it would never put itself back together.

  _I know you hate me right now, but you’ll never be more disgusted with me than I am with myself. I have no good answer for why I turned away from you in the ambulance, or why I haven’t come to see you. I just can’t._

_Watching you have to subject yourself to that monster killed something in me, and I need to do some heavy therapy or something to get it back. It doesn’t change the fact that I love you, Andie, but I can’t be with you or see you until I’m better._

_You’ve put up with so much, and I hate that I’m the reason for it. You deserve better than some fucked up man that invites darkness and death into his life at every turn._

_Maybe my father was right, and I’m a useless piece of shit that will never give more than he gets from this world, but I’d like to prove him wrong. I’m committed to trying, at least._

_Michonne as arranged for me to go to a facility that specializes in intensive therapy, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Shane drove me to the airport, and he’ll be able to reach me if the cops need anything about the case._

_I know you said you were in it for the long haul, but I wouldn’t blame you in the least if you just washed your hands of me right now and moved on. I hope you don’t. It’s what I’ll cling to while I’m gone._

_I love you. Always._

_Negan_


	37. I Think, Therefore I Am Screwed Up

   Cara clutched her purse to her chest as she entered the bank, her hands feeling clammy as they slid along the faux leather straps, shooting a dirty look at the guard who was watching her closely, like she had no right to even set foot inside the building, and her heels clicked loudly on the marble floor. She waited her turn in line, looking around when she heard the word ‘next’, unsure of which direction it was coming from. Christ, who needs so many tellers when most people did their banking online?

   Spying a waving hand, she made her way down to the end of the counter, setting her bag on the wood as the young woman gave her a pleasant smile, her eyes drifting down towards her scar before shooting back up.

   “How may I help you?”

   “I need a cashier’s check,” Cara told her, unzipping the top of her purse. 

   “No problem,” the young girl was entirely too chirpy for her liking, reaching into a drawer and extracting a blank check. “For how much?”

   A huge wad of cash was shoved through the bars as Cara leaned on the counter. “Sixteen thousand, two hundred and thirty-six dollars, please.”

   The young woman blinked nervously as she tried to put the bills in some sort of order, and Cara could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she imagined how the cheap looking chick in front of her managed to amass that amount of cash, and she snorted. “It doesn’t have any cum stains on it, lady. I earned it fair and square.”

   The woman, Bridget, according to her name tag, spluttered anxiously as she shook her head back and forth. 

   “I didn’t-“ she stuttered, “I would never assume anything.”

   “Sure you did,” Cara’s eyebrows rose. “I’m well aware of how I look to other women, but I fucking suffered for this money and then some.”

   She’d spent the last two months doing interviews and selling everything she owned to get enough cash to put a dent into what Daryl paid for her before taking off without so much as a goodbye. Cara didn’t want to owe him anything, so she’d badgered the police department secretary relentlessly until she finally gave up a few places where she might find the asshole. 

    “I- I’ll just get this counted and get your check, ma’am,” Bridget dropped her head, sending the money through a counter bit by bit until she got the same amount that Cara did, disappearing into a manager’s office. The girl returned a few moments later with a middle-aged suit, following behind the guy with pink cheeks. 

   “Good afternoon,” the manager held out his hand, and Cara took it briefly, eyeing the check in his other hand. “I’m Desmond Halloway, the branch manager. I have your check for you. I just need to know who to make it out to.”

   “Daryl Dixon,” she said, spelling out his last name. 

   Desmond wrote it carefully, signing his name at the bottom with a flourish and putting it in a sealed envelope. “Is there anything else we can do to help you?”

   “Nope,” she tucked the check into her purse, zipping it up and holding it to her chest again as he gave her a nervous smile. “Thanks for your help. ‘Bye, Bridget.”

   Turning on her heel, Cara strode out of the bank with purpose, intending to put the shittiest part of her life behind her, because she would be damned if she’d let Daryl fucking Dixon make her feel like shit from this day forward. Spencer whatever the fuck his name was may have stabbed her in the heart, but Detective Dixon was the one that made sure it could never be put back together again, and she had a life to live. She’d gotten herself a good attorney once she found out the Heartbreaker had been sitting on a mountain of money, and she and the other victims and their families were going to make sure his estate paid for what Spencer did.

   Once outside, she hopped into the only thing she was holding onto from the past, the Audi that Scarpetti had gifted her, heading for a bar called the Tavern where she would sit and wait for Daryl until he came in there, whether it took an hour or a week. He may have run from her, but Cara was going to be the one to walk away.

 

 

     
   Andie collected the eggs from the chicken coop, tossing down feed as she went, placing the bounty in her little basket and avoiding crap as she stepped carefully around the chickens that were clucking and begging for food. 

   Maggie was a few feet away, milking Rosie, her favorite cow. They only had a few animals on the farm, but each one was tended to and loved, and it made Andie happy to spend her days helping out, far away from crime and Fairfax. She’d taken a leave of absence after her ordeal, and she wasn’t even sure she was going to return to being a cop. 

   Life on the farm was easy. It was steady and comforting, and there were no serial killers lurking in her bedroom or hiding in the barn, watching and spying on her. There were only goats, chickens, a few horses and some cows with big, brown eyes and lashes that made them look like cartoons. 

   Time away had allowed her to heal, both physically and mentally, despite the fact that she hadn’t heard from Negan in over two months. Maggie and Hershel had given her both space and the ability to process everything that had happened to her. When she needed to be alone, they let her. If she needed to rage, to cry and vent, they were there for her as well. And it wasn’t just a one-sided therapeutic session. She was able to help them through their grief and the emptiness that came after finding out that Spencer was dead.

   Maggie and Hershel didn’t get as much satisfaction from his demise as they thought they would, because it didn’t bring back what they lost. Beth was still gone and she was never coming back. Maggie spent as many nights crying as Andie did, but there were lighthearted memories as well. Andie learned more about the girl with the blue eyes, and the world was poorer for having lost her. 

   But now it was time to move on, and she’d sold her townhouse in Fairfax, unable to go back to it even to retrieve her thing. Rick and Abraham had done her the favor of going there and packing up her stuff, sending everything but her clothes into storage. She dealt with a realtor over the phone and at the farm, putting the property on the market within a week of the incident. It had taken a while to sell because of what went on there, but it finally was out of her hands, another memory locked away as she vowed to get her shit together. 

   Tonight was her last night in Concord, and tomorrow she was going to Mexico to see George and Gabriella. She’d avoided her dad for long enough. It was time to reconnect and rejoin her family, and beyond that, she wasn’t sure where life was going to take her. As far as she knew, Negan was never going to return, nor was he going to try to rebuild the life they had together. He’d gone radio silent with everyone in his life but Michonne, who kept his whereabouts to herself, not that Andie could bring herself to ask. He’d made it perfectly clear that he couldn’t see or talk to her, and the stubborn Saunders part of her refused to beg for his love. 

   Everything that had happened in the cabin in the woods had marred their relationship so badly that there wasn’t one left. He needed to work on his issues, but he’d cut her out of his life without looking her in the eye, and he’d hurt her more than David/Spencer ever did. All this time she thought that it was Lucille that was in her way, when it was everything else. 

   No phone calls, no letters, no ‘fuck off’. It was like he’d never existed, and though she swore to herself that she deserved better, that there was someone out there who would be her partner in life, leaning on her as well as holding her up, it didn’t change the fact that her dreams revolved around Negan. He was always there, taunting her with what they could’ve had. Kissing her in the ocean, sitting across a candlelit table as he held her hand. 

   She held no animosity towards Negan. How could she? She loved him in spite of everything. Andie just couldn’t live in stasis anymore. Life was movement. It was growth, and she had to plant her roots again, to learn how to live in a world that was moving on without her while she healed. Shane had returned to Virginia and eloped with his fiancee, Jeannie. Rick and Lori had finally separated, deciding that the therapy wasn’t going to change the fact that they’d been growing apart for years. Sasha and Abraham were preparing for their baby, due in less than a month. 

   Maggie had even begun dating Glenn, bringing him around the farm to meet Hershel. Andie had no idea how they’d even met, but watching the light in her eyes when he would drive up was enough to make her smile, and she was only a little jealous. 

   “Andie.”

   She shut the door to the coop, setting the basket on her hip as she walked over to the cow, patting her rump and dodging her twitching tail. 

   “Hey.”

   Maggie peered up at her with a grin, her hands moving without her having to look at them. 

   “You better go get ready,” she jerked her head towards the house. “Dad will be put out if you're late to your surprise going away party.”

   “Seriously, Maggie, you guys don’t have to do this,” Andie’s throat closed up briefly with sadness, but she swallowed it down. “You’ve put up with me for months. If anything, it should be a ‘We’re finally getting rid of the houseguest from Hell’ party.”

   “Hush up,” Maggie chided her. “We’ve loved having you here.” Her face clouded over as she thought about Beth. “You’re meant for happiness, Andie. It’s out there, I’m sure of it. You just have to take that next step.”

   As soon as she stood up, Andie threw her arms around her, letting just a few tears fall. The only good thing to come out of the Heartbreaker was this. Having Maggie and Hershel in her life. Someone besides George Saunders to take her as she was, unconditionally. She finally had people that would cheer her towards a finish line.

   “Thank you. For so much,” she murmured into sun-warmed hair and flannel that smelled like fresh air. 

   “Go,” Maggie urged her, stepping back with shiny eyes. “Dad’s going to get antsy.”

   Laying on her bed was a cotton dress made out of red handkerchief material and a bouquet of wildflowers. Andie smiled to herself, overcome with affection for a man who was as thoughtful as he was kind, and she jumped into the shower to get ready, patting her packed bags as she walked past.

 

 

 

   “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

   Negan’s eyes fluttered open as he bit back a sigh, fixing a smile on his face as the overeager flight attendant asked him the same question for the third time this flight. She was young enough to be his daughter, and the old him would’ve made some corny pun about what she had to offer, but he merely declined, shutting his eyes as he tried to mentally prepare himself to return to Atlanta. 

   He’d been gone for two months, spending countless hours in therapy to try to get to the root of all of his issues, and it was only now that he felt confident enough to go home and deal with the wreckage that he left behind. The thought made him laugh internally. Of all the things he thought he struggled with, confidence wasn’t one of them.

   Not until he really delved into his past, looking at his youth with new eyes.

   As much as he thought he’d left his abusive father behind, he was way fucking off base. Dr. Jeff Sanderson was a former classmate of Michonne’s and he’d given Negan no time to waver over his decision to walk away from his life, no chance to bullshit his way through the very first session.

   “So, Negan,” Dr. Sanderson said on that initial meeting after he’d checked into Crossroads Therapy and Rehab, “you’re here because you feel you need to find yourself, correct?”

   “I’m right fucking here,” Negan snorted, plopping down onto the couch as the head shrink sat across from him, giving him a tolerant smile. “I ain’t lost so much as I went through a shitstorm that I need to process.”

   Sanderson wasn’t sold, and he forced Negan to recount his years growing up, each day discussing seemingly random memories. His father clocking him in the head when he left his toys on the living room floor. His mother watching stonefaced when his dad had him pinned in a corner at age thirteen because he dropped a fly-ball in the ninth inning, thereby costing his team the game. Real dark shit that he thought he’d just shrugged off.

   The worst was the memory of his mother speaking in hushed tones on the phone, unaware that Negan was listening in the hallway. She’d been seeing someone behind his dad’s back, not that he gave a crap. But the affection that he’d always craved from her was glaringly apparent as she cooed lovingly to the unknown man, calling him ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’. How could such a miserable fucking woman be so happy when their lives were so fucked up?

   “How do you feel about that?” Sanderson asked him as Negan’s face pinched in on itself. “Your mother’s affair brought her happiness, none of which was evident to you until that moment.”

   “I’m fucking pissed just thinking about it,” Negan stared at the floor. “She let my asshole father treat her and me like shit for my entire life, and she still found something good. Fuck her for leaving me floundering under his fists and his insults.”

   “Do you think that you unconsciously sought some of that happiness for yourself with women that were in unstable marriages?”

   “Well, _now_ I fucking do. What the fuck, Doc?”

   “I don’t have the answers for you, Negan,” he stressed, turning the tape recorder in a circle. “I’m here to help you reach your own conclusions and to help you cope with the traumas that have shaped you into who you are now. I think on a certain level, you believed that the only way to be happy was to seek out partners that saw you as something secret and valuable as well.”

   “I loved my wife, man,” he balled his hands into fists, defensive against Lucille’s memory. “Don’t fucking tarnish her.”

   “I don’t doubt that you loved her sincerely,” Dr. Sanderson said gently, leaning forward to get Negan’s full attention. “This isn’t about Lucille. This is about you, and the way that your initial impression of happy relationships was formed. It may not have seemed like a big deal back when you first made the discovery about your mother’s affair, but I think that you took that in and internalized it, using it as a barometer for your own self-worth.”

   His head was swimming as he went back to his room, thinking about all of the women that he’d screwed and how many of them were in other relationships, and he was forced to admit to himself that he felt a certain satisfaction that they sought him out. They snuck around to be with him, and he never connected the dots. 

   After that session, he’d been more open to researching his past, his emotions, his failures, and his hopes. What he thought would take him just a few days to sort out ended up taking ten times longer, but it had to be done. He wanted a life that was the exact opposite of his youth, and he wanted a woman that was nothing like his mother. Just the mere mention of the word would send shivers up his spine, and he wondered how close he was to being as fucked up as Spencer Monroe, given his obsession with his own. 

   Once he faced his past, he worked on his future and his feelings for Andie, determined not to hurt her any more than he already had, though he admitted that she probably wouldn’t be there when he got back. 

   “Do you believe that she loves you for you?” Sanderson asked, writing down a few notes. 

   “I think so.”

   “Then why did you feel you had to leave her completely behind? What fears exactly did you have about dealing with the aftermath of your experience with the Heartbreaker case?”

   Because he put her in the position that she was in. His fucked up judgment got at least six women killed and two others marred for life. Andie was the only woman other than Lucille who’d ever believed in him and he’d betrayed her in a completely different way. She’d depended on him to keep her safe and her world on an even keel and he’d brought nothing of substance or value into her existence. 

   Dr. Sanderson reminded him that it wasn’t his call as to how she perceived their lives together, because Andie was capable of making her own decisions. “A true partnership is an equal thing. You have to let her determine her own path through your relationship and value her judgment. She sounds like the kind of woman who is committed to you, and who feels you have value beyond a sexual component. You are more than what you can do for someone, and you need to see that in yourself. Can you work on that?”

   “I don’t have a choice.”

   “You always have a choice, Negan,” Dr. Sanderson was firm in that conviction. “You are a complex human being with traumas that don’t need to define you as a person and a man. I encourage you to keep your heart and your mind open and to let Andie be there for you. Let her know why you’ve done what you have in the past, even up until walking out of that hospital and boarding a plane. Reassure her that you love her, that you don’t want any secrets or walls between the two of you, and let her be your biggest champion.”

   The very last thing that he did before he walked out of Crossroads Therapy and Rehabilitation was to take out Lucille’s picture, running his index finger over her smiling face. 

   “I’m sorry that I wasn’t the man you thought I was, Lucille,” he murmured, blinking the wetness out of his eyes. “Maybe if I had figured out this shit earlier, you wouldn’t have suffered in silence for all those years. But I love her, and part of trying to win her back means leaving you behind. If you’re up there watching over me, and you can find it in your heart to forgive me, give me a sign, darlin’.”

   He stood in front of the window, waiting for lightning to strike him, but nothing happened. No birds chirping, no darkening of the sky. Nothing. Lucille couldn’t absolve him of what he’d done to her, and he had to live with that. Gingerly, he set the picture down on the desk in front of the window and turned to leave when a sudden gust of wind blew through, snatching the picture and pulling it out into the void. 

   The tears flowed freely as he laughed to himself. 

   “Thank you, Lucy.”

 

 

   “Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign as we make our final descent into Atlanta. The current time is 7:30 pm, and it is a sunny eighty-four degrees on this Friday evening.”

   The second the wheels landed on the runway, Negan’s heart started to pound, the old doubts and worries resurfacing as he literally returned to the scene of the crime, and he hesitated before unbuckling his seat belt, reaching up for his bag from the overhead compartment. 

   As he stepped into the airport, his phone beeped, and he pulled it from his pocket as he followed the herd of people streaming through the walkway, taking a deep breath as he read the message from Dr. Sanderson.

   “Go get your girl.”

   He was going to try.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue the big showdowns...


	38. Showdown at the Barn

   The Tavern was a fucking dive bar, but Cara liked it anyway. Dark, dimly lit, it was filled with people that she felt comfortable around, even though any one of them would run off with her cashier’s check if they knew she had it. The bartender was friendly enough, filling her glass as soon as it was almost empty, setting a bowl of peanuts in front of her.

   After two hours of waiting, she finally raised her hand, calling the dark-haired woman over to ask her if Daryl was due in tonight.

   “I don’t think so,” the young bartender told her, scrunching up her nose. “I think he’s going to a surprise party tonight.”

   “Daryl? A surprise party?” Cara sounded skeptical as she stirred her Jack and Coke. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

   “Yeah, his friend Andie is leaving town-“

   “Wait, you know Andie?”

   “ _You_ know Andie?” The bartender did a double-take, shaking her head slightly as if it was the first time she'd really looked at Cara. “How the fuck did I not notice how much you look like her? Are you two related?”

   “No,” Cara cut her off. “She was just one of the detectives on my case, along with Daryl.”

   “Hmmm,” she tapped her finger on her lip before extending her hand in greeting. “I’m Tara.”

   “Cara,” she shook it, rolling her eyes. “Shit, that rhymes.”

   Tara laughed, clearing a few glasses as she seemed to be thinking, and after grabbing a few beers for the waitress, she came around the bar, hopping onto the adjacent stool. Cara stiffened slightly, but she swiveled to face the other woman, waiting for her to speak.

   “So, you don’t know me at all, but I like to think that I’m a good judge of character,” Tara told her, leaning her arms on the bar. “It’s one of the cool parts of being around a lot of drunk people. I get to see their trues selves on display. And I’ve been around Daryl for most of my adult life.”

   “Uh huh.”

   “I’ve been watching you for the last two hours, and you are a woman on a fucking mission. You’re wearing a look on your face that would strike fear into the heart of any man. You’re pissed at him for something big, and I don’t know whether or not he deserves it, but if it has anything to do with why he’s been moping around for the last few months…”

   “The motherfucker did something so incredibly sweet and offensive at the same time, and he just walked out of my fucking life.”

   Cara found herself unburdening her soul on this poor woman, pouring out a constant stream of consciousness over the next several minutes. Everything she’d fluffed off after her attack that she held inside It all came billowing out inside a dive bar with a stranger, who sat there quietly and without judgment, laying a comforting hand on her forearm when she finally stopped to take a breath.

   It never occurred to her how lonely she was until she laid herself out in front of a virtual stranger. She had friends, but none that weren’t hookers like herself, and she’d gradually distanced herself from them after Scarpetti let her go, foolishly thinking that after a brief period of time Daryl would come to her.

   “I’m sorry,” she took a shuddering breath as she eased her arm out from under Tara’s hand. “I shouldn’t have fucking unloaded on you like that, but really? I mean who just ups and leaves someone floundering like that after something like that?”

   “Apparently Daryl and Negan,” Tara shook her head in disbelief as Cara’s mouth dropped open.

   “Wait, _what_? Negan took off on Andie? When?”

   “Uh, right after they killed that Spencer guy. Daryl said he went straight to the airport from the hospital and hasn’t talked to her since he left.”

   Jesus Christ. Cara had talked to Andie at least a dozen times after she found out that the Heartbreaker was dead, and she never said a goddamned word. Of course, it wasn’t like she volunteered the info that Daryl had left her high and dry, either. What the fuck was it with these two dickheads?

   “Hey,” she stood up, clutching her purse to her chest, “do you know where that party is? I need to see Andie.”

   “Hang on,” Tara jumped down from the barstool to head back behind the bar. “Let me text Daryl to find out.” Tapping on her phone, she looked up nervously. “I mean, you’re not going to flip out in the middle of the room or anything, are you?”

   Cara gave her a cocky look, one eyebrow raised.

   “I know I’m low class, but I’m not a fucking asshole.”

   Tara was completely unbothered, setting her phone aside as one of the barflies called her over to top off his drink. While she waited, Cara browsed through her emails, just a little hurt that she wasn’t invited. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything, but still. She thought she would’ve at least merited a pity invite.

   “Goddamnit,” she swore, striding towards the door with shaky hands. There in her fucking junk mail was an evite from Rick Grimes, complete with directions to some barn in the middle of fucking nowhere. “Never mind,” she called over her shoulder. “I got it.”

   As soon as she got back to her car, she tossed her purse on the seat next to her and typed the address on her GPS, pulling out with a screech. The party started in an hour, and she could just make it on time if she hauled ass.

 

 

     
   “Just a bit farther.”

   Andie smiled to herself, trying not to break out into a goofy grin as she rode between Hershel and Maggie in the old pickup, sandwiched between father and daughter. She was blindfolded as Hershel drove, supposedly to his favorite restaurant, though she knew they were only going down the road to his friend Jethro’s house. Because he wanted it to seem like they were going father, he’d driven around for the last twenty minutes. Thank God she didn’t get car sick.

   Though she knew about the existence of the party, Andie had no idea who was going to be there, or anything else, really. Maggie had just warned her that it was going to be a ‘country’ affair and told her to dress for dancing, hence the red dress and boots. Since it was going to be mostly outside, Andie left her hair down and loose and brought a jacket with her just in case. It was still unbearably hot in Georgia, but sometimes the temperatures would drop and night, and she didn’t want to be chilly.

   “Hang on,” Hershel advised her, placing a secure hand on her arm to keep her from hurtling into his lap as he made a sharp right turn, and her heart started to pound in dread and excitement. God, she hoped he didn’t have to make a speech or anything. It was bad enough that everyone was going to watch her stumbling in blindfolded, but she loved Hershel dearly for taking her in and treating her like one of his own.

   The truck slowed to a crawl, bumping and bouncing as they obviously headed up a dirt road, and she took a deep breath when they came to a complete stop, the engine cutting out suddenly. “We’re here,” Maggie said in a chirpy voice, opening her door.

   “Just sit tight while I check the reservations,” Hershel told her. “And no peeking.”

   “Yes, sir,” Andie replied in a teasing voice, setting her hands in her lap as the other door shut, leaving her in the truck by herself. It was deathly silent, just her and her thoughts as the seconds passed, leaving her with nothing to think about but her upcoming trip…and Negan. She fucking hated that he still popped up in her brain like clockwork, any time that she wasn’t focused on chores or the animals that had become her main pastime. She wondered where he was and if he thought about her at all.

   Before she could get too maudlin, the door opened, flooding her with balmy, slightly gamey air, and she jumped as Hershel’s hand took her by the arm, helping her to slide out to the ground. He immediately steadied her, directing her forward, and she bit back the urge to lift the blindfold, thinking that she was going to pitch forward at any time. Maggie took her other arm, and the three of them moved at a steady pace, the wind swirling around them as Andie hit a pothole, cursing internally when she almost took Hershel down with her.

   “Okay, we’re going up a ramp,” Maggie warned her, giving her a gentle squeeze as if to tell her that she was almost free from deception, and Andie murmured in the affirmative. Even though she knew that she was going to be surrounded by her friends, all of them shouting in her face, when Hershel removed the handkerchief and she actually saw them all, she burst into tears, not having to fake the emotion.

   It was the first time she’d really seen all of them together since before the Heartbreaker case, and as Maggie pulled her hands away from her face, she turned and hugged Hershel, thanking him profusely before people started to swarm her. Rick, Tyreese, Sasha, Abraham. Even Simon and the regulars at the Grove, including Judge. Everyone hugged and kissed her, expressing well-wishes and sentiments that she really needed to hear.

   After greeting everyone, Hershel led her towards a stage that had been set up for a band to play, guiding her up to the microphone as she flushed red from head to toe. Andie was used to dealing with crowds of people, but in such a personal setting was completely different, and she tried to get her thoughts in order as everyone gathered around with drinks.

   From up on the stage, she could see everyone and everything, and she was overwhelmed with feelings of love and appreciation for how lucky she truly was. Clearing her throat, she could hear a pin drop as she held the mike to her face.

   “I’m truly lucky,” she said, holding her other hand to her heart as she tried to make eye contact with every person in attendance. “To have almost everyone I love here for me…it’s indescribable.” The only people that meant so much to her that weren’t there were her dad, Gabriella, and Negan. Always Negan. “I’m so thankful for each and every one of you, especially Hershel, Maggie, and Rick, who probably put this all together.”

   Rick gave her a big grin, holding up his beer as Hershel looked on proudly, and she took a deep breath before continuing.

   “The past few months have been hard,” she admitted, glancing at Maggie. “I’ve always prided myself on being a tough character, but living through what all of us have has taken a toll on me, both physically and mentally, as I’m sure it has for all of you. We’ve seen and experienced things that we never thought we would, even in our worst nightmares. But…we’re here. I’m so grateful to have all of you to support and just care for me, as much as I care about you. I don’t know where I’m going to end up,” she choked back tears, “but if I have you fine, wonderful people in my life, then I’ll be okay.”

   Andie couldn’t get any more words out if her life depended on it, but she was treated to a round of applause, and she hurried from the stage, seeking comfort in Maggie’s arms, who was teary as well. It took a few minutes of quiet murmuring between the two women, but she got herself together, choosing to see this party as what it was, a celebration.

   Hershel and Rick had really gone out for the party, turning Jethro’s barn into a space for fun. Tables lined three of the walls, sitting in front of the horse stalls, and there were two huge buffets, filled with barbeque, pastries, roasted corn and all kinds of side dishes. They’d even brought in a bartender who was handing out drinks with lightning speed, and Andie grabbed a beer for herself, taking the time to greet the crowd.

   Poor Sasha looked ready to pop, and Andie sat down next to her, kissing her cheek as she devoured some pulled pork, chasing it down with some punch. Abraham was smart enough to keep his hands away from her plate, throwing his arm around Andie’s shoulders.

   “Work’s just not the same without you kid,” he told her, giving her a lighthearted wink. “They paired me up with this new kid, and he’s entirely too chatty. I may have to duct tape his mouth shut.”

   “Think of all the wisdom that you’ll be able to impart to him,” Andie teased him, even though the thought of him riding around with someone else felt wrong. “Proper mustache grooming. Sun protection for gingers.”

   The band started to play as she finished a plate of food, and Rick tapped her on the shoulder, gesturing towards the dancefloor. Andie was amused as they joined a few couples that were already moving together, and he took her hand, placing the other around her waist, the two of them moving in a slow circle without speaking for a while.

   “Thank you, boss,” Andie said, resting her hand along his neck. “I’m truly touched that you’d go through all of this trouble for me.”

   “It’s been my pleasure,” he said quietly, looking her in the eyes. “You’re a good detective and an even better woman. You’ll shine wherever you go, and whatever you do.”

   It was high praise from Rick Grimes, and she kissed him on the cheek, making his face turn red all the way to his ears.

   “So will you,” she told him. “I hope that you put yourself back out there, Rick. It’s nice to see you smiling, and Michonne’s a lucky girl if she ends up with you.”

   He turned even redder if that was possible, and she laughed heartily as he stuttered and stammered, stepping on her foot. Thankfully, the song ended and he excused himself, Simon taking his place. The next song was upbeat, and he steered her all over the floor, picking up the pace until Andie was dizzy and out of breath.

   While there was a break in the music, she went to refill her drink, stopping suddenly when she saw Cara hovering in the entrance, looking uncomfortable as she scanned the party. Andie waved to her, and her eyes lit up with relief as she came over, holding her purse as she toddled across the wood floor in her spiked heels.

   “Hey,” Andie said warmly, embracing her briefly. “I’m so glad you came.”

   “Yeah, I didn’t see the invitation til about an hour ago,” Cara told her, glancing around warily. “We really need to work on our communication skills, though.”

   Andie was taken aback when Cara’s lips lifted wryly, and the other woman shook her head. “What do you mean?”

   “I mean, I just found out that Negan took off after the Heartbreaker clusterfuck, and Daryl did the same fucking thing to me, the exact same night.”

   Andie’s mouth dropped open in shock, and her first impulse was to get defensive, but something about the look on Cara’s face made her start to laugh, and Cara joined in after a minute, two women who faced the worst that the world had to offer and they were still standing. They laughed so long and so loudly that people turned to stare, both of them wiping tears from their eyes.

   “We’re really living our best lives, aren’t we?” Cara snorted, bending down to take off her heels, dropping four inches in height as she took a deep breath. “How the fuck did we end up the strong ones?”  
  
   “What choice did we have, really?”

   The two walked over to the corner of the barn, away from most of the guests, and Cara proceeded to tell her what happened when Daryl returned to Scarpetti’s compound where she was being held. Though Andie knew that she’d been ‘released’ from his employ, she had no idea that Daryl had paid for it, and she listened quietly as Cara told her that he’d taken off after she was free to go, but hadn’t called or contacted her since.

   “Believe me, if he shows up here, I won’t make a scene,” Cara promised her. “I just want to give him some of the money back. I don’t want to owe him anything.”

   “I don’t blame you,” Andie murmured as the music started back up. “But, from what I know of Daryl, I don’t think that he’s washed his hands of you. Maybe he just didn’t want you to feel like you owed him something.”

   “Well, it was a prick thing to do, just up and leaving me like that after what I thought we shared.”

   “Believe me, I understand,” Andie sympathized, thinking about Negan for the millionth time. “I don’t get what’s so goddamned hard about saying, ‘I need space’, or, ‘I need help’.”

   “I take it you haven’t heard from Negan?” Cara sipped at Andie’s beer, handing it back to her.

   “No,” Andie shrugged to hide her pain, glancing around so that she didn’t start to cry. “I have no fucking clue where he is.”

   “You sure about that?” Cara had gone pale, looking over her shoulder, and Andie turned around, feeling like the floor had dropped out from under her. Standing by the doors like he’d walked out of her dreams was Negan, searching the crowd until his eyes met hers, and he was accompanied by Daryl.

 

 

 

   As soon as he caught a cab from the airport, Negan directed him towards Fairfax, paying him an extra fifty bucks to get there as fast as humanly possible. The entire ride, his phone was in his hand, and he debated on calling Andie to make sure she was home, wimping out every time he started to dial her number.

   The whole time he was gone, he’d asked Michonne endlessly how she was, if she was recovering okay, or if she was back to work. Michonne refused to give him any information, firmly telling him that if he wanted to know, he had to call her himself. She neither encouraged or discouraged him from doing it, thinking that he had to make relationship decisions himself.

   Not wanting to derail the progress he’d made, he made a promise to himself not to bring her any more pain than he’d already done, choosing to wait until he thought he was mentally healthy enough to face her wrath. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. He knew he did. But if he wanted to be the man she deserved for the rest of her life, he had to do this.

   Nights were the hardest for him when he’d lay in his crappy twin bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waited to fall asleep. Part of his introspection involved acknowledging every time he’d wronged her, and it ranged from the superficial to the egregious. From calling her doll and darlin’ when he met her to showing up at his apartment while she sat waiting for him with another woman. It made him sick to his stomach, an ache that no amount of rationalization could cure. Sure, he’d broken up with her beforehand, a misguided attempt to push her away so that she didn’t get hurt by the Heartbreaker, but mostly it was a selfish desire not to have to watch someone else that he cared about suffer.

   In the end, it didn’t matter, because he’d been tied to a chair, forced to witness Andie let Spencer drug and molest her. To damn near kill her, and seeing her laying on the gurney in the ambulance brought back memories of Lucille dying in the hospital. He knew now that he’d had some sort of mental breakdown, but at the time, he couldn’t articulate what he was feeling. He was the same asshole that told her he liked her more than his fucking car, for fuck’s sake.

   But if he had to crawl across broken glass to make it up to her, he’d do it. He’d prostrate on shit-covered ground for her. He just had to hope that she’d let him. It was near dark by the time they turned down her street, and a hot, sticky feeling began at the top of his head, slowly sliding down his spine when they reached Andie’s townhouse, the headlights catching a white real estate sign with a red ‘Sold’ slapped across it. _What the fucking fuck was happening?_

   Negan dialed Daryl’s number, bellowing into the phone as soon as he answered.

   “Where the fuck is Andie?”

   “Hello to you, too, dickhead.”

   “I’m sitting outside her house, only it’s not her house anymore.” Negan was breathless, a level of panic setting in that he hadn’t ever felt in his life, and he slammed the door, jogging up the walkway to peer into the windows, his stomach roiling as he saw that the entire place was empty. Not even the shitty pictures were on the walls, anymore.

   “Yeah, well, a lot of shit has changed since ya fucking took off without botherin’ to talk to anyone.”

   “Daryl, where the fuck is she?” He was on the verge of hysteria, ready to drop to his knees because his legs felt like jelly. Negan had some weird fear that she’d never existed, that he’d made her up in his head, and he felt his phone digging into the underside of his knuckles because he was clutching it so tightly. “I need to see her.”

   “I’ll be there to pick ya up in twenty minutes.”

   The phone went dead, and Negan was left standing there like an asshole, his mind completely blank as he tried her number. It went straight to voicemail, and he nearly threw his phone in anger. A fucking hour back, and he was working his way to a hissy fit.

   Daryl barely had time to slow down as he jumped into the passenger’s seat, the car speeding up as soon as the door closed, and he turned to face his partner and friend, struck by how forlorn and tired he looked.

   “I’ll take ya to her, but she ain’t gonna be happy,” Daryl told him in his usual gruff voice. “She’s been stayin’ with Maggie and Hershel Greene since ya left her fuckin’ sitting in the hospital.”

   “Why?”

   “The fuck do ya mean why?” Daryl asked mockingly. “Maybe because she felt like she had no one else she could depend on. Or maybe because her fuckin’ dad is two thousand miles away, and she needed someone who understood. Ya didn’t just run out on her, you fucker. You left us all, and we all had to deal with shit while you were sitting on a fucking couch analyzin’ your issues.”

   Negan counted to ten before he answered, knowing that Daryl had a right to be pissed at him as well. They’d known each other for years, and if he had done the same thing, Negan would’ve knocked his fucking head off.

   “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, making Daryl do a double take. “I had a lot of fucking shit to sort out. I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to do right by her.”

   “Well, fuck you anyway.”

   “How’s Cara?”

   Daryl’s mouth clamped shut, and Negan’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t just because Daryl liked to keep his private life private. He had the feeling that he wasn’t the only one who’d screwed up.

   “What did you do?” he sighed, watching as Daryl’s shoulders rose up to his ears, and he turned up the radio, drowning the two in Motorhead as they got on the freeway to Concord. Neither one spoke the rest of the trip, and Negan ended up running his apologies through his head, trying out at least fifteen different ways to say he was sorry.

   He thought that they were going to the Greene farm to see Andie, but Daryl drove past their mailbox, continuing down the road to another farm, turning into the drive and parking behind a bunch of cars, finally cutting the engine and the radio, leaving them in a vacuum of silence.

   “What the fuck is going on?” Negan asked, squinting as he looked towards a barn that was all lit up, the faint sound of music bleeding through the windows.

   “Andie’s goin’ away party,” Daryl got out of the car with Negan hot on his heels. “She’s movin’ to Mexico.”

    _No_. This can’t be happening. If she left, he’d never get her back.

   Negan smoothed his hair down as he trailed behind Daryl like a child, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. The closer he got to the warm lights of the barn, the faster his heart started to beat and the tips of his fingers tingled, a fiery numbness taking over his body.

   The large area was filled with people, but there was only one that mattered to him, and when he finally caught sight of her, he was struck dumb. She was more beautiful than he remembered, more luminescent than the Mona Lisa, and she was looking at him as if he’d just appeared straight out of a nightmare, but he didn’t care.

   She was here, and so was he, and he wasn’t going to let her get away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so it's taking a little longer to get to their talks, but I didn't want to rush into it. Next chapter will be a big one!


	39. Listen to Your Heart

   Cara started towards the door, even though her insides were feeling like Jell-O. Daryl had caught sight of her, his entire body freezing in place in a defensive posture, though his eyes immediately shifted towards anywhere that she wasn’t. Why she felt like a schoolgirl going to ask a boy to dance for the first time, she didn’t know, but Rick Grimes was directly in front of her, probably trying to head off an uncomfortable situation. Sidestepping around him, she planted herself in front of the two men, fixing a grin on her face to hide her emotions, an easy feat since she’d done it every night for the last dozen or so years.

   “Well, well, well,” she chirped keeping her gaze flitting between the two men. “If it isn’t the disappearing Detectives of Atlanta,” pointing first to Negan and then to Daryl. “Asshole Number One, and Asshole Number Two.”

   Negan’s mouth tightened before spreading into an accommodating smile, his shoulders moving out as he reached towards her to shake her hand.

   “Cara, you’re looking well.”

   “So are you,” she told him, wiping her hand on the front of her skirt. “You look like a guy that had an awesome two-month vacation while Andie spent that time dealing with everything that came after the cabin.”

   “Look-“

   “Can I speak with Asshole Number Two in private?” she broke in, turning her laser eyes towards the asshole in question, striding away towards the exit. She had no guarantee that he was following behind her, but when she turned around along the side of the barn, he was there. He looked pissed, but he was there, and she unzipped her purse, retrieving the check and thrusting it towards him.

   “What’s that?” he stared at it as the light from the overhead lamp reflected off of the plastic sheet that showed his name.

   “I’m paying you back for my freedom,” she told him carefully. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”

   “I don’t want it. Ya don’t owe me for what I did.”

   “Oh, _I_ get it,” she said, feeling the anger and rejection beginning to bubble up in her gut. “I get that you’re so fucking disgusted by me that you can’t even look me in the fucking eye, but the fact is, you paid for my services and got nothing in return, and what kind of working girl would I be if I let that slide?”

   That made his head snap up, and he glared at her as an older couple walked by with linked arms.

   “I don’t think of ya like that,” he uttered in a growling voice. “I didn’t want ya to feel like you had to…”

   “What?” she snapped, shoving the envelope into his stomach. “Fuck you? Pretend it was the best I ever had?”

   “No,” he pushed it away, taking a step back. “Like ya had to pretend you liked me.”

   “You…you think I was pretending to like you?” Cara’s voice got higher as she reeled back. “Because I’m a goddamned robot that can’t really care about anyone? Fuck you, Daryl. I thought you were different. I thought you weren’t like everyone else, but you’re actually worse.”

   “What the fuck do ya want me to do?” he snapped, tearing the check out of her hands and ripping it to pieces and throwing them in the air as she tried to catch them, breathing heavily. All of her hard work was wasted as strips of paper fluttered in the wind and scattered everywhere.

   “I worked my ass off for that money, you dickhead. How _dare_ you?”

   “I don’t want it,” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “I just wanted you to be free for once in your life, ta not feel like you owed anybody anything, even me.”

   Cara was rapidly losing her shit as she chased the tattered remains of everything through the night air. Him ripping it up was the same as if he’d just told her that her life was worthless. Because that’s how she felt since the second he’d done what he had and walked away.

   “Don’t you get it?” she asked tiredly as she dropped to the ground, clutching dirty pieces of the check in her fists. “I’ve been doing disgusting, degrading things for years, but never have I felt more like a hooker than when you treated me like that. I thought you were the one person who saw past that side of me.”

   “I do. I never thought of ya like that, and you know it.”

   “No, I don’t,” she said, getting up and slapping his hand away with a flick of her wrists. “All my life, my body, my _everything_ was in the control of a man. I’ve been used and abused since the day I got my tits, Daryl, and after living through that asshole’s assault on me, you and yet another man sat and decided my future. You and Scarpetti made the decision, not me.”

   “I’m sorry, Cara,” his face was almost heartbreaking, but she backed away, not in the mood for a party anymore. She wanted him to know how she felt, and she did. It was time to end this chapter of her life forever, and it started with her walking towards her car. She made it to the door of her Audi before she started to cry, and while a love song played in the background, Cara leaned against the warm metal, pouring her heart out, not moving even when rough hands gripped her shoulders in comfort.

 

 

   Andie stood in the same spot, her brain briefly malfunctioning at the sight of Negan, as if he’d appeared by magic. After two months, two months of worrying about him, thinking all sorts of glum thoughts, he was here, looking healthy, if not unsure.

   It was only when Cara went striding over in front of Rick that they broke eye contact, and she turned away to catch her breath, feeling like she’d just sprinted a hundred yards without preparation. She’d made it sixty-one days, and now that she was almost out of town, he’d come here. Why?

   Her palms were clammy when she felt a tap to her shoulder, and she quickly spun around to defend herself, but it was Hershel, and she dropped her hands in surprise. He didn’t seem startled, rather he was determined, and he took her by the arm, leading her out onto the dance floor as a new song started.

   “May I?” he asked, positioning himself, and she took his hand in gratitude, resting her head on his shoulder. “Do you want me to have someone escort him out, Alexandra?”

   Hershel was so different from her father. Kind where George was firm. Moderate where her dad was sometimes unreasonable. They were night and day, save for one thing, how they both cared for her, and Andie felt protected right then because Hershel watched out for her like she was one of his own.

   “No, sir,” she said, breathing in his smell, reminiscent of Old Spice and hay.

   “I don’t claim to know what your feelings are for that man, but I know repentance when I see it.”

   Andie lifted her head to see him looking at her wistfully.

   “What do you mean?”

   “I know you know that Beth’s momma died a while ago, but what you don’t know is that I met her not long after Maggie’s momma passed. I was a mess,” he chuckled as they moved in a tight circle, the wail of the guitar helping them to keep pace as the singer crooned about lost love. “Maggie’s mom had got the cancer,” he continued, “and I took her loss hard. Started drinkin’ to keep the pain at bay. Annette came along during that time, and she stuck it out. She saw somethin’ in me, and it was her patience, her belief in me that got me through it. I quit the drinkin’ and I worked on taking care of her and Maggie.”

   Another wife lost to cancer. Another man that made bad decisions. Were any of them really that different?

   “So I should just let it go? Fluff it off that he left me high and dry after the worst night of my life?”

   “Of course not,” he smiled, dipping her lightly. “You give that boy all the hell he deserves and then some. But he loves you, Alexandra, I can tell.”

   “How?” she looked up at him, seeing true wisdom and affection, and she hoped with all her heart that Hershel would have a wonderful life.

   “A man knows.”

   When the song ended, he gave her a hug, loping off towards Maggie to dance with her, and she stood in the center of the floor, unsure of what to do. It felt like she had a spotlight on her, catching more than a few people looking from her to Negan, who was still by the entrance, talking heatedly with Rick.

   She couldn’t do this anymore. She didn’t want to, and she walked with her head held high to the two of them, giving Rick a discreet tap on the shoulder.

   “Andie, I was just asking him to come back later,” Rick informed her, but she shook her head.

   “It’s okay, Rick. I’m fine.”

   She was far from fine, but she wanted to get through this before the party wound down and she ended up alone with Negan. She’d rather have this out and be free to leave when everything was said and done, even though Hershel’s words were still fresh in her mind.

   Rick gave her a gentlemanly nod before walking off, and Negan stuck his hands in his pockets as he looked through her, like making direct eye contact was forbidden.

   “Negan,” she said pleasantly. “Nice to know you’re still alive.”

   He winced, probably knowing he deserved that, and she stalked towards the far end of the barn, ducking into one of the empty stalls. Everyone else suddenly appeared to be engaged in one another, so at least she didn’t have a hundred eyes on her, but her spine felt fiery as she turned around, finding him just inches from her, smelling of lime and bergamot. It was an overwhelming smell, taking her back to a time when the mere sight of him made her want to pull him into her arms and hold him forever.

   “What can I do for you?”

   “Sugar, please-“

   “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, shutting her eyes. “Don’t ever call me that again. I can’t stand to hear that name after Spencer spent hours using it.”

   “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

   “No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Andie sighed, folding her arms and propping herself against the wall. “You weren’t around after the hospital, so you’d have no idea what I felt or dealt with. The nightmares, the inability to brush my own fucking hair and put it in a ponytail. The days and days of sitting in a room reliving every single thing that sick fuck did to me. And to you. I imagine you got to give your statements over the phone since you were God knows where.”

   “I went to a rehab facility. I’ve been there for two months, working ten hours a day on fixing my issues, Andie. I owed it to you, and to myself to be the best person I can be going forward.”

   “And you think I wouldn’t have supported you? You think I’d judge you?”

   “No,” he insisted. “You’ve always been understanding. I just fucking flipped out in the cabin. Everything that I’d seen did a number on me, su-, Andie. I felt like a failure, like it was all my fault that you had to do what you did.”

   “You don’t think I have guilt of my own?” she challenged him, stomping her foot so that she didn’t strike out physically. “Don’t you think I’ve beaten myself up over the fact that if I hadn’t gone home, I never would’ve ended up there, thereby dragging you into it?”

   “None of this is on you,” he closed the distance between them, though he didn’t make any moves to touch her. “It’s not on me, either.”

   Andie blinked in shock as he gave her a steady look. Never in her life did she think that he would reach such introspection, such acceptance, but she bit her lip as he swallowed twice.

   “I’ve really changed, Andie. I spent hours going back over my life, trying to figure out how I came to be the person that I am, and I’m not going to bore you with the pathetic details, but I get it, now. I get everything that I’ve done wrong, up to and including walking out on you that night because of my messed up impressions of love and relationships. I don’t expect you to just be okay with it, or forgive me right away. I just want the chance to make it up to you. I fucking love you more than anything in this world, woman, and I’m ready to put you first, in everything.”

   “What about Lucille?” It pained her to bring up his wife, but she had to know if she was still in his life, in his heart, and his eyes shut briefly.

   “I let her go. I left her picture at the rehab center.”

   “I never told you to do that,” she stood upright, the sensation of creepy crawlies on her skin making her feel itchy all over.

   “I did it because it was time. I love you,” he repeated, taking a deep breath as he finally reached out for her hand, holding it between his own. “I can’t make up for the past, Andie, but I want to do everything I can to take care of you in the future.”

   “I don’t think that we have a future,” she choked out, pulling her hand free as his face dropped. “I can’t do this now, Negan. I’m leaving in hours, and I’m not sure if I’m ever coming back. You had your time away, and now it’s my turn.”

   “Andie, please,” he blocked her path as she tried to step around him, but there was nothing else to say. If he had come back even a week ago, maybe they could’ve talked through their problems, but she was leaving. She needed to get away.

   “You gave up on me without realizing it,” she said, smelling him one last time since he was so close to her. “You gave up on us, and I can’t change that. I want someone that trusts in me, that believes in the best of me. I want a man that can’t stand to be without me, the same way I feel about him.”

   “I’m right _here_ ,” he pleaded, his arms shaking as she gently moved him aside.

   “And you’re too late. You came with a lot of baggage, Negan, and I was always okay with that. I was happy to help you carry the load, until you left me standing there holding it all as you sought higher ground for yourself.”

   She didn’t see him walk out, but he was gone when Andie finally said her good-byes to her friends. There were tears and there were smiles, but she was quiet on the ride home, going immediately to her room after thanking Maggie and Hershel once more. They’d offered to drive her to the airport, but she declined, preferring to drive herself.

   She’d already booked long-term parking for her sedan, and she had to be up in a few hours.

   There was no sleep to be had, though, just a replaying of her conversation with Negan, and she went from being sure of her decision to fighting the urge to call him and ask him to come with her. But, it wasn’t fair. Not to him and not to her, after two months of not being together.

   Deep down inside, she was proud of him that he’d worked so hard on his issues, and she just wished he’d talked to her first. She would’ve been his biggest supporter, because she wasn’t the only one that had been through hell. Negan deserved peace, and he deserved happiness. He deserved to know how good he was, how good he always was, and maybe someday she’d be able to tell him that.

 

 

   Three a.m. came way too soon, and Andie made her bed with an ache of remorse, carrying her suitcase down the hall. When she made it to the front door, there was a note taped to it, and she plucked it off, holding it until she got into her car where she could see it under the dome light.

_Andie,_

_We know you hate goodbyes, and you didn’t want us to drive you because you didn’t want a scene, but we’ll miss you. You’ve become family to us, and it’s been a pleasure having you here. If you need anything, anything at all, we’re only a phone call or a plane ride away._

_Have fun with your dad, and take time for just you._

_All our love,_

_Hershel and Maggie_  
  
 

   She’d be lying to herself if a part of her didn’t want to turn around and go back up those steps. Staying here had been a lifesaving, live changing experience, and it helped her figure out what she wanted with her life. Andie wanted to help people. She wanted to have more than just a townhouse filled with bland décor that held no real value to her.

   But she didn’t want to deal with death and murder anymore. Being a homicide detective had been her life’s goal once. She’d hoped to follow in George Saunders’ footsteps and work her way up the ladder. No more.

   Now, she just wanted to cocoon herself in her dad’s house for a while, not having to think about anything. By the time she got to the airport, Andie was exhausted, and she bought herself some peanut butter M&Ms to snack on while she waited to board.

    _Negan_. Was he okay? Did he go home? Back to rehab? Quite frankly, she had expected more of a fight from him, but maybe he really had changed. Maybe he figured that their problems weren’t worth revisiting in light of his newfound outlook on life.

   Her layover in Dallas left her time to work herself into a guilty state, and she ate her weight in steak and eggs to mask her feelings, trudging to her seat on the next flight, finally getting some sleep. She must’ve started snoring, a mortifying prospect, because her seatmate gave her a gentle nudge as they made their descent in Acapulco.

   Wiping the drool off of her mouth, she avoided the older man’s smirk as she rooted around for a tissue, thanking him quietly when he handed her one. Jesus Christ, she was an embarrassment to herself. As the plane made it’s slow trek to the hub, she checked her phone one more time, her stomach clenching when there was no word from Negan.

   She didn’t have time to get bogged down by sadness as she filed into the aisle, retrieving her bag from the overhead compartment and shuffling out with the rest of the sheep into the bright sunshine and warm breeze. Fall in Atlanta couldn’t compare to Mexico, and the salty air swirled around her as she hit the bottom step, striding around people towards the inner door, spying her dad waiting with a smile.

   “Daddy,” she murmured when he enveloped her in a warm hug, smelling like lime and…bergamot? “Dad, why do you smell like Negan?”

   “He sent me a bottle of that cologne I liked so much when you came for the wedding,” he told her, refusing to relinquish his hold on her, and she blew it off for the moment, deciding to let it slide for now. Andie didn’t want to associate her sensory reaction to that particular smell with her father, but it would have to wait as he finally broke free, picking up her bag and striding towards the exit with her in tow.

   George’s convertible was a welcome sight, and he tossed her bag into the backseat, opening the door for her like the gentleman that he was, giving her a stern look until she buckled her seatbelt. They joined the slow-moving traffic out of the airport, and Andie shut her eyes, feeling the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, ignoring the reminder that the last time she was here it was with Negan and she’d been through another emotional upheaval.

   Andie almost fell asleep, but the gentle pat from her dad’s hand forced her eyes open, and she could see that he’d been biting back his questions, built up from months of not seeing her in person.

   “Are you finally ready to tell me everything, poodle?”

   “What do you want to know? I’ve already told you about that night,” she huddled in her seat, letting her hand weave through the wind, watching as it bobbed up and down.

   “You told me the facts, Alexandra. You haven’t told me how you’re handling it.”

   “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she muttered, low enough to just be heard with the top down. “I haven’t had many nightmares, and my arm is healed. I’ve just been taking some time for myself. Staying with Maggie and Hershel was therapeutic for me, and I’m glad to be here with you.”

   “What about Negan?” George sighed, but she shook her head. She wasn’t going to discuss her relationship with him, and his hands tightened around the wheel. So fucking what if her dad liked him? He wasn’t there. He didn’t know what it was like to be left alone. “I talked to him while he was gone.”

   Andie’s head whipped around to stare at her father in shock. He’d never once mentioned that in all the times that they spoke, but there wasn’t a hint of regret or guilt on his face.

   “How could you not tell me?”

   “Because we didn’t talk about you,” George told her calmly. “We talked about him, mostly. He knew well enough not to bring you up, and I didn’t offer any information.”

   “What did you talk about?” She was angry, beyond angry that he’d kept in touch with Negan, but also intensely curious about what the fuck the two of them spoke about if she wasn’t brought up.

   “I’m not going to go into the details, but he really just wanted someone to seek advice from,” her dad said, speeding up once they got out of the city limits. “He never had the kind of support that he should have gotten growing up, and he respects me.” It wasn’t said with cockiness, it was just a fact, and Andie knew it. “Negan wanted reassurance that he was doing the right thing.”

   “Well, how the hell would _you_ know?”

   It was the wrong thing to say, and George pulled quickly off to the side of the road, fixing a look on his face that Andie hadn’t seen in years.

   “Watch your mouth, young lady. You may be grown, but you’re still my child, and you owe more reverence than that. What I may or may not feel for Negan doesn’t involve you, and if I want to help that boy, I will. You’re the one that asked me to give him a chance and I have. I won’t excuse him up and leaving you in the lurch, and he’s well aware of that, but whatever anger you’re holding onto, you need to deal with it. It’s not healthy to let it fester.”

   “I have every right to be angry,” teenage petulance was rearing its head as she faced forward, wrapping her arms around herself. “He left me alone to deal with everything, Dad. He ran away. I would never do that to him.”

   “Congratulations,” he barked at her as her face burned. “You’re obviously a better person that Negan is. Not everyone is as strong as you, Alexandra Nicole. Have some compassion.”

   She couldn’t believe her ears. How in the fuck was _she_ getting shit on when Negan was the one that walked out on her? Andie refused to even speak for the rest of the hours long ride, and George Saunders did as well. He was just as stubborn as she was, if not more, because he’d had much more practice at it, and when they pulled up to his house, she got out of the car taking her bag with her as George took his time, completely nonchalant. The door was unlocked, and she stepped through into Gabriella’s waiting arms, letting the young woman baby her like she thought she was going to get from her own flesh and blood, kissing her cheeks and pushing her towards the steps.

   “Go upstairs and relax,” Gabriella told her, waving her hands. “You’ve been flying all night and you must be exhausted. Your dad and I have to run to the restaurant and we’ll bring you some food later.”

   “I just got here and you’re leaving?”

   Gabriella gave her a smile as she picked up her purse.

   “You don’t need us here to sleep, Andie. Decompress and maybe take a dip in the pool. There’s plenty of time for us to catch up, carino.”

   She was out the door before Andie had climbed the first step, walking slowly up the remaining ones and along the open hall to the guest room that she’d stayed in the last time.

   When she opened the door, warm air greeted her along with Negan, who was standing with his back to her on the balcony, looking out over the ocean.

   George _Fucking_ Saunders strikes again.


	40. Wish You Were Here

   Andie switched lanes, reaching haphazardly for a pair of sunglasses to ward off the bright sunshine that was hitting just right off of the convertible, enough to momentarily blind her. Sliding them on, she turned down the music, pressing the button on her phone so that it connected through the car, the wind howling as she greeted her father.

   “Alexandra, where are you?” he sounded pissed, and she took a deep breath.

   “I’m a half-hour from the airport, Dad.”

   “Alexandra, that’s so disappointing,” he began. “Negan-“

   Out of nowhere, a stray dog darted across the road about twenty yards in front of her, and she slammed on the brakes, her heart slamming against her ribs. 

   “Dad, I gotta go,” she panted, adjusting the car as it swerved dangerously towards the palm trees that lined the freeway, cutting the call as the brown dog trotted away without a care in the world. For good measure, she turned the phone off, tossing it back in her purse as she sped back up, trying to get to Acapulco as quickly as possible without her father lecturing her. He’d gone off the deep end before about Negan, and she had no wish to hear his lingering tirades about her impetuousness, telling her that he’d raised her better than this.

   She just wanted to get there, and right now there was a vehicle in front of her setting a glacial pace, making her want to ram it from behind. As soon as the oncoming lane was clear, she flipped her signal, passing it by with a quick look. The driver must’ve been at least ninety years old, barely able to see over the steering wheel, and she almost pulled them over on instinct to do a wellness check, remembering at the last second that she wasn’t a cop in Mexico, instead pressing on the gas to get as far ahead of them as possible. 

   The airport was packed, of course, and she drove around for at least twenty minutes looking for a spot, finally finding one at least a fucking mile from the entrance. Debating whether or not to put the top up, she finally just grabbed her bag and phone, rushing to catch the tram that was ferrying people to the doors.  

   Andie ended up sandwiched between two sunburned American families that looked exhausted, each with toddlers that were jumping up and down with sticky ice cream cones, and she stayed vigilant, trying to keep the melty liquid from splashing onto her dress. No easy feat, but by the time they reached the sliding glass doors, she was still ice cream-free, and she hopped out, the first one to do so, walking swiftly through the doors. 

   Her bag was bouncing off of her shoulder as she tried to weave her way through luggage, sweaty departing fliers, and benches that were stuck in the middle of nowhere. When she spied her gate number, she power-walked down the long hallway scanning the runway as a hand reached out, snatching her arm. Jumping a mile in the air, she turned around, sighing in relief and throwing her arms around his neck as he lifted her off of her feet.

   “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she murmured into Negan’s jaw. “My dad already bitched me out.”

   “Did ya forget about me, baby?”

   “No, I was finishing up a few things,” she told him as he set her down, giving her a chaste kiss. Taking her hand Negan led her towards the baggage claim, having sent the last of their things with him, and they stood on the far end of the wheel, waiting for their stuff to be unloaded. Four rolling bags, all with bright red ribbons on the handle slid down the plank, and Negan pulled them off, both of them taking two as they trudged towards the exit, walking in silence as everyone bustled around them.

   “We have to take the tram thingy,” Andie told him, taking their spot in line as they waited for the one that would escort them to the yellow parking lot. When it chugged up, she and Negan set their bags in the furthest seat back, settling right in front of them as excited honeymooners and new families came to take the place of the ones that just left, and Negan took her hand, resting in on his thigh.

   It felt weird and comfortable at the same time, having him here after so many weeks apart. He’d had to fly back and forth to Atlanta over several months to complete their affairs and close up their lives in Georgia. 

   The estate of Spencer Monroe had finally settled the civil suit that the surviving victims and their family members had filed, and though money could never erase what had happened to them, it allowed Andie and Negan to leave Atlanta for good. 

   Deanna Monroe had been the only child of Archibald Monroe, the founder of Monroe Pharmaceuticals, a multi-billion dollar drug company. When she died, her share of the company was handed down to Spencer, and it was one of the reasons that he’d been able to stay off the radar. Forensics teams had discovered several off-shore accounts in his name, at least, the name of David Smith. 

   That fucker had been sitting on hundreds of millions of dollars, and rather than risk the damage to their reputations, the Board at Monroe Pharm had paid out handsomely in order to put the mess behind them, and all shares of Spencer’s had reverted back to them. As a condition of the settlement, all parties were forbidden from speaking about the Heartbreaker case, not that Andie cared. She had no intentions of ever sharing her thoughts publicly. What happened to her and everyone else was no one’s business, and she refused to be fodder for public entertainment.

   Negan held his hand out for the key to the car, and she gave him an incredulous look before dropping them into his palm, stalking over to the passenger’s seat as he grinned. 

   “I need to test this baby out,” he laughed as he started it up, and she put her sunglasses on, finding a spare pair for him in the glove compartment. The days of a dependable old sedan were gone for her as well, and now they had a shiny, red Camaro to patrol the streets of Costa Maya, their new home.

   As they started the trek back there, Andie stared out at the coast, lost in thought until a thumb grazed her cheek, and she turned to see Negan glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.

   “What’cha thinkin’ about?”

   “I was actually thinking about the day I got here and you were on the balcony,” she told him as his hand dropped, but she snatched it back, linking her fingers through his.

 

 

   When she’d walked into the bedroom after leaving Atlanta the night before, he was there waiting for her. She’d been ambushed by him at her going away party the previous night, and they’d had a painful conversation about his two-month absence after the Heartbreaker took her hostage. While he’d been off finding himself, she’d been left holding the bag.

   George and Hershel both stressed forgiveness, though one was much nicer about it than the other. 

_“He loves you. A man can tell.”_

_“Not everyone is as strong as you, Alexandra Nicole. Have some compassion.”_

   She was torn between relief that he’d apparently left her party and got on the first plane to Mexico that he could and just flat-out fear. Fear of giving him another chance and ending up alone and hurt. Each time she’d thought she found her person, the one she was meant to be with, they left. Shane had, and so had Negan. 

   But when he turned around to face her, having heard the door open, the empathy that her father urged was bubbling up inside her, and she headed straight for him, burying her face in his chest as he let out a deep breath. They didn’t talk, they didn’t kiss, they just stood on the balcony in the sun holding each other until he finally stepped back with red eyes.

   They were both tired in body and soul, and she guided him back to the bed, just wanting to rest. So they did. The two of them curled up on the bed facing each other, falling asleep to the sound of the waves crashing just outside and warm wind blowing over their bodies. 

   Over the next several days, Gabriella and George gave them space and they gave Andie and Negan the most important thing: time. Time to talk and time to get to know each other again. Their conversations were painful at first, as each was forced to disclose their hurts and their regrets, and not surprisingly, Negan’s list was longer than hers. 

   But it brought a new understanding between them, sealed with a kiss.

   “No more shutting me out,” Andie insisted as they sat facing each other on the guest bed in George’s house. “You can’t ever walk away from me again, Negan. You all apparently think I’m strong, but I can’t go through that ever again.”

   “I won’t, love,” he tapped her knee as he shook his head. “I went through a mountain of shit to get to this point in my life, and I’m fucking sticking to you like glue. It was worth it, Andie because this is where I wanna be.”

   Funnily enough, she and Negan were completely pampered by her dad and Gabriella, and Negan soaked up the fatherly attention from George like a sponge. They spent hours together outside on the patio smoking cigars and drinking Brandy, and it filled her with joy because it made Negan so happy.

   Likewise, Gabriella doted on her, even though was younger than Andie, but it was nice. It made her feel special, because her mom had died when she was young, and she’d never gotten so much pampering before. The younger woman didn’t seem to care that Andie was an adult or that she was a detective, and it allowed her to regress, just a little bit. 

   Gabriella taught her how to bake and she would brush Andie’s hair as they talked about their lives. She and George were working on franchising her restaurants, and she wanted to ‘retire’ so that they could travel together for half of the year. 

   “Have you thought about what you want to do next, carino?” Gabriella asked as the two of them worked on bolillos in the kitchen. Andie wasn’t as hopeless as she thought when it came to cooking, though she didn’t love it as much as her stepmother did. 

   “Negan and I still need to discuss it, but I think I want to stay in Mexico. You and Dad are my only family, and I just can’t see myself going back to the force. I don’t have it in me to go to crime scenes anymore. I want to live my life and find happiness somewhere else.”

   “With a baby, perhaps?” Gaby winked at her as she slid the tray into the oven, and Andie shivered, shaking her head.

   “Not anytime soon.”

   No more was said about it between the two, and later that night as she and Negan were sitting around the fire pit, she brought up the subject of staying.

   “Negan?”

   He set his drink aside, turning his chair slightly so that he faced her, and she took hold of his hand as the fire crackled, bathing them both in orange.

   “We need to talk about our future.”

   She felt his hand close tighter around hers, and she quickly reassured him that it wasn’t about their relationship.

   “I mean where we’re going to spend our time,” and he relaxed slightly. “I don’t know that I want to go back home.”

   “What do you mean? I thought this was just a sabbatical.”

   “I don’t think that I want it to be,” she said as he studied her. “I don’t…I don’t feel like I can go back to the department, because everything’s changed. It’s not filling me with the same kind of passion anymore.”

   “That could just be temporary,” Negan pulled her out of her seat, directing her onto his lap as she swung her legs over his waist. “You might just need some time.”

   “I don’t think it is,” Andie sighed, her fingers finding their way to the hair on the back of his neck. “I don’t want to go back. My dad is here. Gabriella is here. The lawsuit is going forward, and I think I want a new start. George is in his sixties, and I want to spend as much time with him as I can. But I need your input. I need to know what you want.”

   “I like being a cop,” he said after a protracted silence. “I’m good at it, and I don’t think I can be happy just sitting on the beach all the time.”

   Andie’s spirit dropped as she stared into the flames, still scratching the back of his neck until he tilted her chin so she was forced to look into his eyes.

   “But I _know_ I won’t be happy if you’re not, so I’m willing to relocate and offer my services to the find people of Costa Maya.”

   “Really?”

   “I love you, Alexandra Saunders. I don’t mind policin’ in paradise as long as you’re here. I may not want to stay forever,” he warned her before placing his lips against hers. “But I’ll move here on one condition.”

   “Well?”

   “We get a house of our own. I can’t stay under your dad’s roof having quiet sex for the rest of my life,” he whispered into her ear, moving his hand down to her waist. “I’m fuckin’ dying inside.”

 

 

   Negan smiled as she reminded him about their conversations, and when her phone rang, he was the first one to speak.

   “Hey, dad,” he said charmingly, winking at her as she rolled her eyes. “She finally made it.”

   “Glad to hear it, son,” George replied. “I know she’s going to have you running all over, but stop by tonight if you’re feeling up to it. I just got a bottle of Remy Martin Louis XIII, and I’m waiting on you to crack it open.”

   “Yes, sir,” he said as Andie felt a tickle up her spine, both of happiness and something else that she couldn’t put her finger on. George was more than fond of Negan, and it was mutual, and for the life of her, she just couldn’t get a handle on it. For a long time, she thought that he’d warm up to Shane, but Negan was different. She guessed that her dad could see how much he loved her, because he’d given up everything from his old life for her. His apartment was gone and so was all of his furniture from when he was married to Lucille.

   They chatted for a while as Andie tilted her head back, looking up at a sky that was free of clouds, and she brushed her hair so that it was balled up behind her head to keep some of it from blowing into her face. 

   “Hey,” Negan said, breaking her out of her semi-comatose state, prompting her to sit up, “you’re going to need to direct me when we get close, honey.”

   She began to feel a sense of childish excitement when they pulled into town, and she told him to take a right off the main road, guiding him down a row of small shops to a little plaza that was almost directly across from Gabriella’s restaurant. The brick building housed a print shop and a drug store, but Negan pulled in front of a door with A.N.D. Investigations written in both Spanish and English. 

   Andie was the first through the door, holding it open as Negan stepped through, looking around with a critical eye. Cara was on the phone, and she gave them a quick wave as she wrote down a few things, telling the prospective client that they had a slot free on the following Monday morning. The offices were small but tidy, and the waiting area had been designed by Cara, who did a bang up job with the décor. 

   Comfortable chairs were lined up against the storefront window, and Cara had gotten herself a reception desk with frosted glass and a state of the art computer. Since she was an equal partner in the business, she had a vote in everything, and she was currently enrolled in online college courses to get her criminal justice degree. Daryl was helping her with some of the classes, and she was going to shadow him on a few more benign cases. 

   The man in question came shuffling out of his office, slapping Negan roughly on the back as welcome, and the three of them sat down on the chairs to catch up. 

   “About fuckin’ time you showed up. Andie and I have been chasin’ adulterers for the past month,” he grumbled as Negan shrugged. 

   “I had to sign the deed over for my place and the hipster douche that was buying it was being a pain in the ass.”

   “I’m on the phone, motherfuckers,” Cara hissed at them, covering the mouthpiece. “Pipe the fuck down.”

   Andie left the two of them to bicker amongst themselves, peering over Cara’s shoulder to see what the basis of the possible case was until the other woman elbowed her in the stomach to get her to back off. 

   “Are you ready?” she asked as Negan stood up, making a quick tour of his office before waving goodbye. As much as she wanted to hang around, they hadn’t been to the house yet, and they still had to unpack the remaining bags. 

   Their new house was down the street from her dad’s, but far enough away to have some privacy. Construction had finished on it only a month before, and Andie had worked her ass off to get it decorated and set up as a welcome home surprise for him, so she wanted to see his reaction.

   Since they were right on the beach as well, she’d had a pool and a hot tub installed, and she’d stuck to muted colors, the outside built with white sandstone. All of the landscaping was colorful and cheery, and their house had balconies for each room on the second floor, allowing views of the ocean and the tropical setting on the other side of the street. They were truly in paradise, and she watched Negan’s mouth drop as he pulled up, really getting a good look at it for the first time. 

   “Holy fuck, detective,” he whistled, parking in front of the walkway as she grinned like an idiot. “This looks fucking amazing.”

   “Come on,” she poked him, hopping out excitedly. “I know the pictures didn’t do it justice, but I want you to see what you got in return for leaving Atlanta behind for me.”

   The smile that he gave her was nearly enough to make her cry, something she found herself doing a lot more, both in happiness and sadness. It had been hard to be without him for such long stretches because it felt similar to when he was gone in rehab, but the main difference was that they kept in touch several times a day. 

   “Allow me,” he swept her up, carrying her to the door, and Andie reached down, unlocking it and pushing it open as he nearly dropped her on her ass when he peered inside.

   “You fucking put this place together already?”

   “Welcome home,” she kissed his cheek as he set her down, turning to press herself against him. 

   The living room was two stories high, with a fireplace that went all the way to the ceiling, and the walls were painted a pale blue, nearly an exact match to the sky outside. There were paintings on the opposite wall, watercolors that Gaby’s brother had made for them, and the furniture was cream colored and plush, the kind of stuff that was made for lounging around. She’d had a special bookcase installed that housed all of his favorites, and a small bar in the corner. 

   The kitchen was a chef’s dream, and she had Gabrielle help her with that, taking her weekly cooking lessons to heart. And the backyard. Oh, the backyard. Sweeping, unobstructed access to a white beach, and a pool that was the centerpiece. They could spend every day out there completely fucking nude, and no one would ever see it. 

   “Jesus, Andie, you took his house and made it a fucking home already,” he was obviously impressed, but she wanted him to see the piece de resistance, tugging him towards the steps to their master bedroom. 

   Negan had seen the plans when they started building, but she tried to make it an oasis for him, and the color scheme was masculine with a black, king-sized bed and matching nightstands. The walls were a burnt reddish color, and she’d found a copy of one of the prints that had been in his old bedroom, a mishmash of circles and streaks in red and black. She’d left the doors open to allow the salt air to fill the space, and she turned around to get his honest reaction.

   “What do you think?”

   “I’m fucking stunned,” he admitted, walking through the room to the adjacent bathroom with its separate tub and shower and a closet big enough to house both of their clothes, most of which were already put away. “You did all of this on your own?”

   “Mostly,” she shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come and feel the mattress.”

   He didn’t have to be told twice, flopping down next to her with a moan that went straight to her core. “Oh, this fucking memory foam shit. You’re a goddamned gift from God.”

   While he was in such a perfect position, she settled herself on top of him, joining hands with him as he looked up at her innocently. There were so many emotions and recollections as she stared into his eyes, from the day he walked into her precinct to the way he stood on George’s balcony, a shimmering mirage of hope and a reminder of why she couldn’t keep her heart on ice anymore. It was worth the hurt and pain she’d experienced because it made her appreciate the end result of everything that she’d learned about herself and what she was capable of overcoming. What Negan was capable of overcoming as well.

   “I love you,” she murmured, a sudden bout of nerves overtaking her, causing her to lean over so that her face was buried in the side of his neck, the smell of lime and bergamot giving her the courage to continue. “I love you so much, and I’m grateful that you’re here. It feels like home, now, because of you.”

   “Andie-“

   “Let me finish,” she could feel the tears coming, and she let him roll her onto her back, but she covered her face with her hands, clearing her throat. “When you walked into my life, I never in my wildest dreams thought that we’d end up together,” the words were stilted and muffled, and he finally took her wrists, lowering them so that he could hear her. “You were…like no one I ever could’ve pictured myself with, and I think it’s a good thing. I want to spend the rest of my life getting to the heart of you, because you’re so worth it. You’re not who I thought you were or who you thought _you_ were. You’re better, and I’m honored to love you.”

   “I don’t have any fucking idea how I got so lucky,” he cupped her cheek, making sure that she was looking at her. “You’ve given me a family, and I can finally be myself, Alexandra. I’m who I was meant to be, and it’s thanks to you and that psycho for bringing us together. You’re my rainbow after the storm. You’re the reward that I didn’t earn, but I’m taking it. I’ve never been able to put into perfect words how I felt, but you make it okay. You take my immature and sexist compliments and appreciate them in a way that nobody ever has, and it’s my goddamned honor to be your man.”

   “Then kiss me, motherfucker,” she smiled through her tears, meeting him halfway, and it was bliss. Every touch of his lips, every stroke of his fingertips on her skin. She couldn’t get undressed fast enough, and they only broke apart for seconds, each stripping down to the barest state, coming together in the middle of their new bed, their new life together.

   Negan bent her legs, slipping inside her easily since she was so aroused, and Andie fastened her lips to his neck, moaning as he began to work himself in and out, both of them getting slick with sweat in the warm room as the sweet scent of Plumeria that grew outside their room overtook the ocean air, making their reunion seem even more perfect. 

   As Negan got closer, he jutted his hips towards her, rubbing them along her nub to encourage her to join him, and Andie used both hands to force his mouth onto hers so that the could moan his name into his lips. It was enough to get him to spill inside her with several more thrusts. Collapsing on top of her, they laid together with Negan on top of her, still inside. It felt so good, so…needed that she didn’t want to set him free, and he didn’t seem inclined to want to.

   

 

   A few hours later, Andie was buried under sheets, completely asleep, and Negan edged out of the bed to stand on the balcony in the dark, listening to the lapping waves from their private beach. 

   All the trepidation that he’d felt on the plane ride over was gone. This was his family now, and George was going to give Negan permission to marry his daughter. He knew it in his bones. Andie was never going to leave him, never make him feel like a jackass that didn't deserve happiness. She truly loved him from the bottom of her heart, and he felt the exact same for her.

   Negan, the former Detective of the Atlanta Police Department was now a semi-retired private detective in a town in Mexico that he couldn’t even fucking pronounce, and he was as happy as a clam. He wanted the same for Andie, and by the time the new year rolled around, he hoped to make her Mrs. Clam. In fact, he had the ring all picked out, and he’d need to hide it once he had it shipped until he was ready to propose. 

   Someday soon, they’d be a family officially, and he’d have everything he never knew he wanted until he was shown the possibility of it. It was fucking hot in their room, so he shut the balcony doors, slipping downstairs to turn on the air conditioning so that they could get some real rest. 

   He’d forgotten to text George back, so he sent a quick note that he and Andie would be by tomorrow, tossing his phone on the counter before carrying two glasses of water up to their room. Shit, she’d even put all of their new dishes away. New dishes, new life. It was the first time in his life that he didn’t have to worry about money, and even though their settlements from the Monroe estate were separate, he felt the need to clear big purchases with her, because their lives were going to be combined and entwined forever.

   But there was a particular watch he had his eye on, and as soon as they got settled, he wanted that fucker front and center on his wrist. 

   The bedroom was already cooler when he crawled under the covers next to Andie, pulling her against him and taking a few liberties with her tits, tweaking the nipples lightly as she moaned in her sleep. His pillow was lumpy for some reason when he laid his head down, and he felt around underneath it, his fingers brushing a velvety box. What the fuck?

   Carrying it over to the double doors, Negan opened in curiously, his heart flipping lightly as a vintage rose gold Piguet glittered in the moonlight. It was one that he’d studied many times online, and he’d in fact zoned in on it when they went to Cache Fine Jewelry when they were chasing a lead on Spencer Monroe. That fucking little miracle must’ve noticed, and he jumped when she spoke sleepily behind him.

   “I hope that’s the right one,” Andie said over her shoulder, rolling onto her back as he removed it from the box with shaky fingers, holding it out to her. Squinting, she fastened it around his wrist, shutting her eyes, and he leaned down to kiss her with as much love as he could pack into it, trying not to wake her up again. 

   “It’s perfect.”

   Life was as close to perfect as it would ever get, and Negan wasn’t going to waste another second of it without her.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this journey! I had a vague idea of where I wanted this story to go, and I made it there, thankfully. I'm an optimist for life, so my stories will usually end on a happy note, but I may come back to this one someday and wreak more havoc into their lives. See you the next time!


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